


Two Weeks

by Bexinthecity247



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: AU, Angst, Bomb, F/M, Holidays equal sex, Love, Sexual Assault, Someone insisted I tag a sexual assault scene so here it is., Swan Song, Tension, affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-10-13 07:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20579099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexinthecity247/pseuds/Bexinthecity247
Summary: Julia bets ten grand on a holiday.There she meets David.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia should not drink at balls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by a few different people- they know who they are and it's dedicated to them <3

The champagne bubbled and fizzed through her blood as each glass made her head feel lighter and lighter until everything was becoming a blur. She pulled at her uncomfortably long dress, counting the hours  before  she could release herself from it and hide in her cases, her reports.

Julia’s eyes roamed over the room of overly dressed politicians, like herself, practically locked in this room,  at least until the dreadful evening had come to its conclusion. She swiped another glass of champagne off the passing tray and watched as her husband took to the stage, looking proud and like he belonged. 

As soon as he came face to face with the microphone, the charismatic notes of Bach dwindled away and the general din of a party came to a halt, all perfectly done up heads turned to face him, waiting on bated breath for whatever he was going to say. A cheer broke through the silence and Roger received it willingly with a smug smile.

“Thank you.... thank you all,” he said, voice amplified across the entire hall. “I appreciate each and every one of you coming out here tonight to support the Queen’s Gate Charity, and for showing your support not only to me,” he paused to let the rounds of applause wash over his ego before continuing. “But to the wonderful Conservative party as we know and love it.”

The room erupted into clapping and Julia looked around wondering whether they were clapping for him or for themselves simply for turning up. From the way some turned to one another, she surmised it was the latter. She clapped her hands lightly around her champagne glass, eyes returning to the foreboding figure Roger cut up on that podium.

“James-” he always referred to the Prime Minister by his first name, “is extremely grateful for all your support over the past few years and he knows he can count on you all to support him in the upcoming election next month.” 

There was no doubt in her mind that at least one of the stuffy men in this room would be trying to overthrow the PM when it came to it, but for now it seemed everyone was happy to pretend to be in each other’s pockets. The rest of his speech faded into the bubbles of her drink, and when she looked up he was approaching her with a smile on his face.

“Well darling?” he said, eyes roaming over her face expectantly.

“It was... very good,” she said, and she could tell from the flicker in his expression that he was displeased by her answer. He wouldn’t bring it up now however, he would wait until they were in the  dis comfort of their bedroom and  while  she would be stroking the last traces of make-up from her face, he would be deconstructing the evening piece by piece.

“Right... well, the auction will be starting within the hour and we need to talk to some people.” His hand was on her back, guiding her into the crowd.

“You know... I have an awful lot of work to do, do we have to stay all evening?” she said, forcing a  pleasant  smile at the nearest passing party member; doing her cordial duty as Home Secretary’s wife rather than humble Defense Secretary.

“You know how important this is to me, darling, we have to at least show our faces for the auction, then I’ll have sergeant Williams take you home,” Roger said, hand disappearing from her back as he shook hands with a large bellied elder man who guffawed his way through a rehearsed spiel about how wonderful Roger’s speech was. 

Everything was already so arduous, that she grabbed another glass from the passing tray. She’d been instructed not to drink too much tonight, that it was a big night for him, and he needed her on her best behaviour. But when she had agreed to his demands, she had had no idea just how bored out of her skull she’d be. When had she become so dulled by her peers? These were people she should have been climbing all over, burying on her way to the top. And many of them were people she had grown in office with, friends, allies... enemies. Many of these people had voted for her, given her the power she held. But when she looked around all she saw were nameless men and women that blended into one.

“You remember my wife, Julia,” her husband was saying, and she turned her head to face the unwelcomed visitor. 

“Yes of course, how can one forget such a face?” the man was like a withered bulldog, and not someone she remotely remembered having met before. Julia plastered on her best smile regardless and took the man’s proffered hand.

Before she could speak, a gong was sounded, and Roger’s face became synonymous with boyish excitement as he prepared to return to where he was most comfortable; the spotlight.

“Please welcome back our fine chancellor, Roger Penhaligon, to open this year’s charity ball,” a voice called him back and he was jogging back up the stage steps, running a hand through his salt and peppered hair. 

As he fluffed up the various rare and exciting auction lots they had coming up, amongst the usual rich people experiences, Julia turned away from the hall, excusing herself to the bathroom and she stared at her reflection for so long she had stopped recognising herself. Her make-up was neutral and perfect, the dark red lipstick, the only real stand out colour. ‘Whore’s red’ Roger had called it, begging her to switch to a pale shade of pink. He had only acquiesced when she promised to leave a red rim around his cock later that night. 

She fluffed at her loose curls and turned to look at her behind. The dark green silky dress hugged her perfectly and looking at her arse now, she realised that half the men in that room had most likely been ogling her rather than appreciating the power she held.

“An egg- cellent prize I'm sure you’ll agree,” the well-endowed elderly patron was saying as Julia returned from, pointing at the small crystal and very ugly egg nestled on a cushion by the stage. A round of laughter went around the room at the poor attempt at a joke, as if she didn’t encounter Faberge eggs regularly.

Through the raucous din, the elderly woman struggled to regain control.

“... a romantic tryst,  Farringday Holidays has kindly …all-inclusive five-star resort experience to C...” 

What did she say? Julia strained her fuzzy head to hear above the racket. 

She couldn’t see Roger and so was swallowed into a pile of her peers and constituents, her head beginning to spin. Somewhere in the fray someone was bidding, and the holiday was already way  overpriced before she had put her hand in the air. It seemed a fun game at first but then when the bidding got to seven and a half thousand, she was not going to let some stuffy old twat beat her. When he bid eight, she bid eighty-five hundred. He dropped out as it hit ten a half, leaving her the jubilant winner when no one else dared to take her on. She felt an odd sense of victory when she was declared the highest bidder, despite having absolutely no idea where she was even going. The thrill it gave her made her feel more alive than she’d felt all year. 

When the initial excitement had worn off, she spied Roger approaching, an amused look of disbelief across his face.

“Some idiot just bid ten grand for a holiday,” he was laughing in that overly confident cocky way that made her forget why she fell in love with him in the first place.

“Yes, darling, I do believe that was me,” she said, relishing the look on his face. She truly believed he would have a coronary.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia arrives in paradise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was always my intention to post up two chapters (much like Bodyguard released two episodes in the first night) because some of them are relatively short.  
So here's the second chapter.  
This is a completed story, so will be posted periodically at times I haven't yet decided. Hope you enjoy :)  
Also - the name of the location was left deliberately vague so you could make up your own imagery.

She hadn’t even been mad when he refused to speak to her the next morning; her splitting headache was enough to keep her company, but his childish ‘silent treatment’ act was wearing thin by the third day. It wasn’t like they didn’t have the money. And it certainly wasn’t as if he didn’t buy whatever he felt like it. Like the five-thousand-pound necklace he’d bought his secretary for Christmas, that he didn’t know she knew about. By the time he adamantly declared he would not accompany her; relief was all she felt; relief and happiness to be on her own and unbidden to him for two whole weeks. Two weeks to sleep in late, to eat how she wanted, drink when she wanted. Two weeks away from the mundane trap of her job. 

Stepping off the plane was like opening an oven. Almost at once Julia was assaulted by a searing heat washing over her and London suddenly felt like a million miles away. She breathed in the  Mediter ranean air and wondered what Roger would be doing. The thought lasted only a moment before she was walking out into paradise, trailing her case behind her. 

There were so many faces staring back at her outside the arrivals lounge, all holding cards or eagerly awaiting family. The man holding a card with her name showed no recognition when she approached and for a single second, Julia Montague realised she was all alone.

The driver made no attempt at small talk to the hotel and she was grateful as she looked over the many emails and messages pummeling her phone, to the point where it jingled so much that, for the first time in a long while, she switched it to silent, immediately feeling a bizarre sense of freedom. She only noticed they had arrived when the car stopped, and the man stared round at her. She came to with a start and went to open the car door, eyes travelling over the  extravag a nt glass fronted building that didn’t quite smack of five-star pure luxury to Julia, but it would certainly be adequate for her get away from her life for a little while. She wondered how freeing it would be if there was no mobile service here. One look at her phone told her that  particular wish had not come true.

She took her suitcase, handed the driver a considerable tip and rolled her shoulders. Oh, how she regretted now wearing a pantsuit as she tried to shrug her blazer off.

“Err miss, you dropped this,” a voice said, and she turned around to face blue orbs and an outstretched scarf. He had an accent she didn’t expect from his face and she took the scarf from his hand, fingering the silk lightly.

“Thank you,” she said softly and with a warm smile, he was walking away, into the hotel. 

Checking in was harder than necessary, she noted, with an outdated system and certainly not living up to the efficiency of the Savoy and all she wanted was a cold bloody shower to wash the sweat of travelling off her skin. When she was finally given the key and led to her room, she kicked off her heels and opened the balcony window over the most  exquis it e sea views of ir i descent blues blurred with a gentle haze brought on by the ball of bright fire that hung heavy over the city. 

Julia looked at her phone, disappointed to see Roger had not called. Though she knew he hadn’t, nor had she expected him to but she suddenly all alone in a big luxurious room with no one to talk to. Her thumb hovered over his number, a raging debate erupting inside her head as to whether she actually wanted to talk to him or not. 

‘Arrived safely, speak later’

A text seemed safer, less likely of being held up listening to either his chatter about work, or his tirade about this incredibly expensive holiday. His late reply came with just a simple ‘okay’ and she sank to the bed, running her hand through her hair. She sat, ruminating far longer than she knew was healthy before jumping up and rifling through the suitcase placed at the end of her bed. The clothes should be hung up, she knew that but by god if she didn’t go downstairs and have a drink in the bar, she might well have gotten into the bath and slit her wrists. A grimace graced her face at the thought of Roger getting a hold of her entire trust fund, bequeathed to him in the event of her dreadful suicide. She loved him but didn’t love him THAT much. 

So that was why she chose to s i t on a stool, f u rthest away from the bar, nursing her second glass of wine, the lapping waves broken up by a melody  of Bach, or perhaps Mozart; she couldn’t quite hear over the various happy and animated conversations dotted around the open - air bar. 

“Ahh hello, again. Mind if I?” 

That voice... that accent... what even was that?

“By all means,” she said and watched him sink onto the seat beside her. His eyes were intense, and she had been mistaken; they were green grey and not blue, but they were still incredibly captivating.

“My name is Luka, by the way,” he said and she absolutely appreciated the way his accent grazed over the sound of his name.

“Julia,” she said and he took her hand, raising it to her mouth and kissing it lightly. She had no doubt that if she wanted to, she could fuck this man tonight. 

Would you like to dance?” he said and she looked around at the small area reserved for romantic couples to sway together. 

His lips twitched when she returned back to his face and god she wanted to kiss him. She smiled politely and shook her head.

“I don’t think so, sorry.”

Admittedly he took her rejection well and she was impressed by a man, for once but her eyes caught on the man sitting on a table alone, swigging on a beer, his face was turned towards her and she couldn’t help but turn away, shifting in her seat so she was sitting straighter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really feeling this story at all - and would probably have scrapped it if it wasn't finished but any feedback and love/hate would be wonderfully appreciated!  
I am not going to be writing anymore after this (probably for a long time) so it would be nice to go out on a high!

She’d woken later than the six am she’d normally grace the world with her presence, and it had only taken her an hour to shed her London exterior, check and discard her emails before she had stretched out on the balcony, let the warm air penetrate her bones, and her aching muscles. It was oddly freeing to be in a foreign city, held up in the bustle of someone else’s language; she couldn’t understand them, and they couldn’t understand her. 

Julia couldn’t remember another time when she had simply done so little all day and when the evening crept around, she noticed with a start that she had read an entire book. She didn’t even care that Roger hadn’t called her all day, so engrossed was she in the world created by Bronte, that real life had already melted away. Save for the low grumbling of hunger in her stomach and by the time she was showered, dressed and making her way down to the decadent dining room, the air had started to cool as the sun was setting over the ocean. 

The table she was given was nicely set away from the other happy families, the romantic couples celebrating love and unionship in ways she and her husband seemed to do less of with each passing year. A candle flickered on the table, creating shapes and twisted shadows on her menu and she could feel the ocean breeze through the three-sided canopy. Even the air smelt different here. 

“I’m very sorry Miss Montague,” an accented voice broke her menu perusing, and when she looked up, she saw the very awkward looking man behind him, hovering like he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“Yes?” 

“We are dangerously short of tables tonight, because some large parties have arrived, would you mind sharing your table with another of our guests?” the voice was apologetic and when she looked at the two men, the awkward, yet devastatingly attractive one smiled politely.

“Erm.” 

Since when did she stammer? This was ridiculous. She was used to wining and dining men she knew next to nothing about, one more shouldn’t be an issue.

“Sure,” she smiled, holding her glass to her lips and taking a rather generous sip. The man, whom had been staring at her so intensely the previous evening, sank into the seat opposite her, picking up the menu before him. “Would you like some wine?” 

He looked up quickly, as if he hadn’t expected her to actually talk to him. 

“Err, no, thank you...” 

His eyes only lingered on hers for a second longer than necessary and she was able to appreciate the very vividness of cobalt in them. Julia held the menu in front of her; she already knew what she wanted but she chose to use the opportunity to study him, the bewildered way he looked like he didn’t understand half the dishes, despite the suave way he dressed. 

"Would you like some help?” 

He gave her an  embar r assed laugh.

“Please, I don’t understand what half of this means,” he  said , and she felt a smile pulling at her lips; something about him was so endearing, especially that he would allow a woman to help him with his dining choice.

“This is lobster, lamb, and sea bass” she pointed at the corresponding labels and he nodded. 

He grimaced. “I’m not exactly used to fine dining...what do you recommend?”

She let out a small laugh, one that was not designed to tease, but erupted from a genuine place of ease and warmth. 

“Do you like seafood?” 

He held his hand in a fifty-fifty, so-so position and she looked back down at the menu.

“I think the lamb cutlets with vegetables is probably a safe option for you.” 

“Then that’s what I shall have,” he said, holding his glass of water up to toast her choice. 

He waited until the main c ourse was in front of them before he tried small talk and she sensed that he was far out his comfort zone with it.

“I’m David, by the way,” he said, fork spearing into the lamb.

“I’m Juli-” 

“I know who you are.”

She studied his expression, looking for darkness them in or signs that this amicable evening was about to come to an end.

“I watch the news, I’d be stupid if I didn’t know,” he pointed out and she saw no resentment in his eyes, at least not on the surface. “Plus, I know who your husband is.”

She raised her eyebrows, mouth firmly set.

“Right.” 

She returned her glance back to the plate, feeling his gaze upon her.

“I gotta say, I didn’t exactly expect a politician to be here.” She looked so sharply up at him that he quickly added; “I thought you were all glued to parliament.”

She knew he was trying to be light, to ease the tension but she felt her hackles rise regardless. Probably because what he said was true. 

“I won the trip, seemed pointless to waste it,” she said evenly over her wine glass, studying the blush creeping up his neck, contrasting vividly with his crisp white collar. He nodded far too enthusiastically before falling silent. This was far harder than she had imagined, and her usual charisma was not luring him in, it seemed. “And what about you? What brings a man like you to a place like this?”

She  realised too late that it sounded  rude , but she arched a manicured eyebrow.

He laughed and she couldn’t tell if it was in humour or not. When he diverted his attention to his hands, she surmised it was most certainly not humourous.

“It was supposed to be a surprise to … for my wife... then she left me. Seemed a waste not to come anyway.” he said, and her mouth dropped open as she felt shame for asking.

“I’m sorry,” she  said , and she meant it.

“It’s fine... I mean it’s not... but...” He shrugged with one shoulder. When he raised his head to meet hers, a curl fell into his eyes and she felt an odd urge to reach out and move it, if only just to feel if his hair was as soft as it looked. 

“Well...” she murmured, forking a delicate mouthful of lobster into her mouth, trying to ignore the way he watched her. 

“I should point out I vote Labour,” he said abruptly and when she looked at him, she noted the slight pulling at the corner of his mouth. She took a thoughtful sip of her wine before she wrinkled her eyebrows.

“Hmm. Well... I won’t hold it against you,” she said with a small smirk and he let out a raucous laugh that insantly had her grinning into her glass. 

“So, Julia,” she liked the way he said her name, like the letters rolled off a tongue made to speak it. “How does one, win a holiday?” 

“I bid on it at a charity auction,” she said, and he nodded as if he knew exactly what she was talking about, though she doubted he had ever been to a charity auction in his entire life. Perhaps that was what made him all the more attractive to her; he was so unlike every man she had ever known. And that made him wholly inappropriate. “My husband couldn’t come, didn’t want to come, whatever.”

David looked at her for a long moment before he picked up his glass and swallowed a mouthful.

“His loss,” he said, and their eyes met. For a second there was something hot, settling in his glance before it was gone. “This place is like paradise.”

“Mmm, indeed.” She hummed non-committedly. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy shit where David and Julia go into town and do touristy shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horribly fluffy ...  
Thank you to those who have reviewed :) You'll never know how much a review stops me from giving up entirely.

It irked her when she didn’t see him for two days. It annoyed her in a way that really shouldn’t and yet she still found herself seeking him out every time she was within the hotel’s parameters. Julia only resigned to defeat when she sank down to her breakfast table and noted the many empty tables. It was unlikely they would be forced into a similar dining situation and now she wished she had made more of an effort to keep their evening from ending. Another dalliance never to come to fruition, she thought sombrely, sneaking another spoonful of muesli between her lips.

“Morning.” 

She was embarrassed at the way her stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice and she took five full seconds before she turned in her seat to face him, her arm snaking along the back of the chair.

“Good morning,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and neutral, though she was sure that he would be able to read her inexplicable joy at seeing him, flickering across her face before she had managed to dampen it.

“Mind if I?” he asked.

She held out her hand and he sank into the seat opposite. Rather than find herself lost in his eyes, she watched the steam rising out of his coffee mug, until she realised he’d been talking, and she had most certainly not been listening.

“Am I boring you?” he said, sitting back and arching an eyebrow. An easy laugh was dragged from her and she could see a smirk forming.

“No... not at all.”

“You seemed pretty distracted.”

Even the way he looked at her innocently had her wanting to jump across the table before she chided herself, recalled memories of her wedding vows. And at the end of the day, she loved Roger... didn’t she? 

“Just … work, life. Boring things,” she said, forcing a smile. It absolutely had nothing to do with the heat pooling in her stomach, the need for him to do unspeakable things to her. No. Absolutely not.

“Isn’t there a cardinal rule about not thinking of work while on holiday?” he said into his cup as he took a gulp.

She forced a chuckle to compliment the lie she’d  told , and her hand went to her wedding ring, twisting the gold band in circles until she felt she had reset her moral compass. 

“There probably is, unfortunately I don’t really get to switch off that easily.” 

He nodded and he looked across the dining promenade; she knew he wasn’t looking for his travelling companion, since he didn’t have one so she could only wonder what had suddenly caught his interest. When he returned his glance to hers, he had a slight smirk.

“Do you  wanna get out the city for a while?” he  said , and she opened her mouth, about to politely refuse. 

“We’ve known each other a matter of days, and you want to whisk me away somewhere? Do you often spend time with politicians?” she pursed her lips into a tight, yet genuine smile and he tilted his head.

“You’d be surprised,” he said , and she narrowed her eyes. Why was everything about David such an enigma that she wanted to decipher? “Plus , I hired a fancy car and I think I’ll look like a sad dick driving around in it on my own.”

He hadn’t been kidding when he  said , ‘fancy car’, she thought as they drove down the main coastal highway, her arm tracing the airwaves through the open window. 

David drove the car like it was an extension of himself, there were no hard starts, or jerking with the gear changes like when Roger drove her to their bi -monthly ‘romantic’ dinners at the club that would undoubtedly have her feeling sick like a dog on top of the wine. And she leant her head on the headrest, watching the passing landscape, feeling the breeze drift over her face. 

He drove the car to a rolling stop at the foot of a dozen or so desolate looking buildings.

“Have you been here before?” She turned her head lazily to look at him and she saw herself reflected in his dark glasses. 

He smiled wanly.

“Do I look like someone who comes to these kinds of places regularly?” he chuckled and a pang of something stung in her chest. There was no right answer to that.

“Well I've never been here either,” she said instead, and he pulled the key from the ignition.

“Now that does surprise me.”

She couldn’t quite read the emotion on his face as he said it, especially when he  swiveled away from her and loped out of the car, waiting for her to do the same before he made to move towards to the strip of what she presumed were shops.

“This is the town centre,” he said, and she looked at him, mouth poised to question him. “According to my guidebook.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath with a small smirk. Of course he was the type to use a guidebook. She hadn’t even so much as googled this country before she came. Her ignorance astounded her for a moment. “Why is it so empty?” 

She looked up and down the street but saw a small group of tourists, she presumed and the odd opened shop.

“I’m not sure,” he said as they walked, his hand resting on the base of her back to steer her around a lamppost. Any other man she would snarl at, tell them she could navigate herself down the pathway, but she welcomed his touch. 

Turning a corner into a side road led to what she fully expected a tourist city to actually look like, a bustling mess of people speaking a variety of languages, notably English, and above the fray, the sounds of boats lapping at their moorings mixed with the scents of food. 

She stopped for a moment to look around and when his hand dropped from her back, Julia yearned to look at him, to demand he put it back. 

“Are you hungry yet?” he said close to her ear and she resisted the urge to shiver.

“Not yet, let’s … walk around, use your guidebook to show us the sights,” she  teased , and he grinned around his bitten lip as he pulled his phone out.

“You know my guidebook is only google...” he confessed.

Julia swotted his arm playfully and fixed him with a narrowed glance.

“I’m dissappointed! You led me to believe you were a genuine tourist!” 

Her straight face was quickly dissolved by the smile she couldn’t hold  back , and he held the phone up to her face.

“Here we go, my guidebook says we should definitely stop by the couples wishing fountain thingy!” he said triumphantly. 

“Thingy? Is that an official term?” 

“Says it right there in black and white.”

The fountain was spectacular, and the tinkling of the water it produced was therapeutic, soothing the busyness inside Julia’s head as they sat in the perfect gold sunshine and watched other travellers throwing coins in, making wishes and pledges to their boyfriends, and girlfriends and so on. 

Across the square, between the tourists were bundles of homeless scattered between empty shop doorways and behind bins that must have made for unpleasant shelter. She frowned.

“You wanna make a wish?” David turned to her and she looked off to the distance.

“I have everything I want or need so …" she said flatly, and she was sure he looked at her signs of insincerity. Truthfully, she DID have everything she had wanted when she was a girl growing up. And she didn’t need for anything; her financial status was  comfortable ; her marriage was not exactly a disaster like her friends … and her job carried just the right level of stress for her. So why wasn’t that enough? It had been enough. Until she had met a certain Scotsman who suddenly made her question everything. “You?”

“Well I thought about wishing for my wife to come back …" he said, looking down at his feet before raising his head, eyes piercing hers. “But now...”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Julia continue their "touring"

Julia tried not to watch the way he leaned against the counter as he chatted with the barman, sweeping a hand through his salt and pepper curls and jutting out his arse a little more than usual. She tried to pretend that was for her benefit, though she knew it was unlikely. 

He returned to their table with their ordered drinks in his hands and he placed a cold glass of chardonay in front of her, a glass of water for him. She found this habit interesting.

“Apparently the country is in a financial crisis.”

“Hmm?” she  hummed , and he jack his thumb over his shoulder.

“I was talking to the barman about the empty shops. Apparently , the government is on the verge of total collapse,” he  said , and she rolled her eyes. No wonder these holidays were being auctioned off.

“God,” she muttered. This was an even space for her, politics. Yet she found herself wanting to get beyond it, to push it aside, to prove to herself that there was more to her than that.

“Yeah - none of the local businesses can afford to keep paying rent when the economy is so bad,” he was shaking his head as he sipped at his water.

“You sound like a politician,” she teased  lightly , and he gave her an easy smile before he returned to serious.

“Well... being a  L abour supporter, and a policeman, I tend to take an interest in social welfare,” he said , and she looked at him sideways.

“You’re a police officer?” she said with more than a hint of respect, though he would never know the images of him in his uniform were flashing through her mind, both before AND after he took it off.

“That’s right ma’am, and you’re the defence secretary. So now we’ve established that,” he said with an offside grin, one that had her settling back into her seat. The delivery of their food interrupted his train of thought long enough for her to butt in.

“What part of Scotland are you from?” she said, tilting her head like a predator evaluating its prey/

“You noticed, hmm? Glasgow.” 

“I can see why you care about social welfare,” she said  somb er ly .

“Did you always want to go into politics?” His easy ability to counter her was something she was quickly coming to enjoy more and more.

She let a mouthful of lobster fall into her mouth while she considered the question.

“What I really want is to be Home Secretary,” she said coolly, not failing to miss the way his eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, you want your husband’s job.” It wasn’t said in disdain, that she could tell but something cold ran up her spine and she squared her shoulders.

“Well my end goal is prime minister,” she said, her politician’s mask slipping firmly back into place. 

His eyebrows shot up before he could mask his evident surprise.

“Ambitious,” he said, letting out a slow breath.

“I think anyone who lacks ambition is destined for an unsatisfying life.”

She hadn’t mean it to come out so bitchy, but she could feel the barriers erecting between them, especially when they fell into an electrically charged silence.

“Hurry up, we have more to explore,” he finally said, splitting the air and she told herself she was most definitely imagining the sparkle of desire in his eyes. 

When they’d asked for the bill, and had it placed between them, both reached for it, their hands brushing lightly. His fingers lingered. 

She was certainly NOT imagining that.

His hand returned to the base of her spine when they meandered between crowds of people and he suddenly dived to the left, into a tacky souvenir shop with a colourful façade.

“David?” she said as she followed him in.

“I told my kids I'd get them a little present,” he said as he walked from an aisle of  t - shirts adorned with maps of the coastline, to aisles of glassware, mugs and shot glasses. She grimaced as she walked past a glass with breasts and found him standing at the back holding up a photo frame and a teddy bear, looking from one to the other.

“May I make a suggestion?” she said, leaning close to his ear.

“You may.”

The huskiness of his voice sent shivers down her spine and she grinned as she took the frame from his hand, their fingers brushing before she replaced it on the shelf.

“Don’t buy something in the first shop you see,” she  said , and he turned to look at her with a frown.

“That’s your advice?” he  chuckled , and she smirked back at him.

“ Yes , it is ,” she laughed. “Now, I think it’s time you let me pick somewhere, don’t you?” 

He narrowed his eyes, a wane smile pulling at his mouth.

“What do you have in mind?” he said, and she bit her lip.

“Do you like wine?” she only asked.

“Not really...” he chuckled as she led them back to the car. 

“Perfect.”

She directed him down sloping country roads that had the car bouncing over potholes and swerving from one side of the road to the other to avoid the deepest ones. Dust plumed out behind them; gravel spat out by the souped up car’s wheels. 

“I thought you’d never been here before,” he mused when she told him to take the next right.

“I haven’t...” she said then help her phone up, wiggling it in her hand. “I can google too, you know.”

He grinned.

“A woman with initiative, after my own heart.”

She was sure it was meant in amusement, but she couldn’t deny the flutter that erupted in her stomach. 

Julia refused to tell him exactly where they were going, as the car meandered between olive groves and through two large impressive metal gates. 

“A vineyard?” he said, seemingly clocking the signpost. He looked to her as he pulled the car into the quiet carpark, his face contorted in confusion as she simply smiled at him.

David swung the car into a small car park and turned to her when he switched the ignition off.

“So, I said I didn’t like wine... and you bring me to … a vineyard?” he said sardonically, and her hand faltered on the door handle.

“I’m here to take you out of your comfort zone. And anyway, it’s a spa too.”

“ Oh , so now I'm here for facials and massages?” he grumbled as he followed her out the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't feel like this is in character much - so apologies ...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vineyards and drunken antics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews!

She laughed when he grimaced, his hand fisted over his mouth.

“Oh my god, it’s like vinegar!” he cried, and she chuckled as she swirled the glass, and sniffed the red, full bodied liquid.

When she drew the glass back down, she leaned over to read the book in front of her.

“It’s supposed to be a red berried Bordeaux,” she said wistfully, fully expecting him to understand exactly what she was talking about. When she looked up however, she saw he was not following.

“It’s vinegar,” he only said, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

“It doesn’t taste like any Bordeaux I’ve ever had; I’ll give you that.” 

“How much of this shit do you drink?!” he said too loudly, and she smirked to herself.

“Well if I don’t have at least a bottle or two a week, I’m really not very nice,” she grinned over the glass.

“Isn’t that the fast track to alcoholism?” he chuckled, and she shrugged, swirling another mouthful over her tongue.

“Probably,” she said huskily. “Blame it on the stress of the job.”

The silence between them grew so she took the opportunity to smell some of the other wines on the table, letting the  walnutty smell of the Shiraz mix with the woody  scent of the Merlot.

“Jesus how do you drink this shit?” he mumbled as he switched glasses to another crimson glass, and she laughed. She watched his head lolling slightly, eyes moving in different directions as he tried to focus on her.

“You’re not meant to swallow it,” she said with a raucous chortle, when she noticed he had not utilised his spit bucket at all.

“What?!” he said, mouth slack as he looked blankly at her before he leaned forward and said, in an exaggerated whisper, “You’re not?” 

She shook her head, trying to quell the continuous stream of laughter pouring out of her mouth.

“Well what have you been doing?!”

She bit her lip at his little awkward smile before lifting her glass to her mouth.

“I’ve been known to swallow. On special occasions,” she said, licking the red liquid from her lips.

He snorted, choking on a mouthful of wine that he unceremoniously spat back into the glass. 

“Jesus christ,” he murmured under his breath, blotting at the table with a napkin. Julia had spilt many a glass of red before; that stain was never coming out.

“I think you’re a little drunk,” she whispered loudly across the table and he tilted his head.

“I think we better call a cab,” he winced, and she nodded slowly.

They didn’t quite stumble out of the tasting area, but David reached out for her arm more than once, a silent, heavy chortle cracking his chest in two, drawing tears from his eyes. Julia had managed to stave off the alcoholic rush until she had stood up and now, as the room span wildly around her, she thrust a hand out to the wall to steady herself whenever she let out a high-pitched shriek of laughter. Together they ambled along to the reception area, leaning on one another for drunken support before the desk was in view and David nearly flopped onto it.

“Cab... please...” David slurred a little as he spoke , and the receptionist sighed patiently;  evidently , he was used to this.

“Where are you staying?” The man asked.

“Tranquil Medericii … something...” Julia cut in and David looked at her, head propped up by his elbow.

“No... it’s Villa Medici...” he  said , and she shook her head with a teasing eyeroll.

“Ignore him.” 

“Right... one moment please,” the receptionist disappeared into the back, turning his nose up as he went, and she felt a flicker of shame.

It lasted only a moment when she felt a hand on her back, trailing lower until David’s large hand cupped her arse as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She bit her lip, let his hand remain but when the bald little man came back, he quickly pulled away.

“I’m sorry – there are no cabs going that side of the island tonight, I'll be happy to arrange one for the morning,” he  said , and Julia frowned.

“Well... what are we supposed to do? Sleep in the lobby?” she said  snappily , and he pulled back. He seemed to have had enough of dealing with two drunkards and for a second she wanted to scream at him that she was not like that, was not someone who flirted with a married man and got drunk at respectable businesses. Then the other half of her personality bled through when he looked at her with a ‘not my problem’ stance.

Fuck you, she thought bitterly.

“Can we have two rooms then, please?” she said, digging out her credit card from her purse and the man tapped away at his computer before sighing exaggeratedly.

“We only have one double room available.”

Julia looked at David who just shrugged and she closed her eyes, breathing in deeply before letting it out in a huff.

“Fine.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh what will happen in the only room available in this whole massive hotel?!

Doors closed on them, sealing them in a small metal tomb before David reached out and pressed the button illuminated with the number ‘three’ and it started to move upwards. Julia suddenly became overly aware of the sound of his breath as he leaned one shoulder against a wall of wine menus. 

Fuck it.

She turned to him, pressing her mouth against his in a fierce display of dominant passion, sucking on his lower lip before biting down gently on it. She only pulled back when she didn’t feel reciprocation and his eyes were wandering over her face, his lips slightly swollen from her assault. A lazy grin tugged at the corner of his mouth and he leaned forward, his hand groping for her waist and the other tangling in her h air , pulling her mouth to his. His tongue dived into her mouth. 

Just then the lifted dinged and the doors slid open on their floor and they pull hungrily away, floundering along the corridor until they could match their key to a door and when David couldn’t quite get it in the slot, she steadied his hand to help his aim. The lock slid back with a click and he pushed open the door, letting her enter first and she evaluated their cosy abode for half a second before she forced David against the door, slamming it louder than necessary, her hands beneath his jacket, forcing it from his broad shoulders.

His tongue was crashing against hers and he was guiding them towards the bed, hands fumbling at the back of her dress, presumably looking for the zipper. He broke off abruptly.

“The fuck is this thing? A straitjacket?” he hissed as he leaned around her to pull the zip down so roughly that for a split second, she thought it’d break. His mouth was so close to her neck she could feel his hot breath and then heard a gentle “aha” when he finally got it free. 

They reached the foot of the bed, a tangled pile of limbs pushing and pulling at clothes and she lifted his t-shirt above his head, tossing it away to join her discarded dress. Momentarily, she was stunned by the muscly arms and chest that she had to run her fingers over his bulging forearms, down to the curve of his abdomen muscles until the reverie was broken. She stood back, though never quite moving out of his arms, and unclipped the black bra restraining her breasts, letting it drop to the floor, their eyes locked, and she gasped inwards when she felt the pressure of his thumb and forefinger squeezing on her nipple just once.

Julia used nimble fingers to unbutton his jeans quickly, and they both broke into giggles when he danced on one foot for a moment, determined to kick them off. When he nudged her onto the bed, she lifted her hips up to slide her knickers down over her thighs and legs. David only savoured the view for a second before he crawled over her, 

She leaned in, buoyed by the slight alcoholic tinge in her bloodstream, pressing her mouth, hot and wanting, against his. David’s lips were slack against hers and her pulse rushed in her ear as she considered the implications of her actions. Then she felt movement beside her as he made contact, lips pressing hers, rolling onto her. His weight was pleasantly distributed over her as she parted her legs for him. Logic, rationality and most importantly, her moral code evaporated from her mind faster than the wine had taken over it.

His breath was rushed, each one panted hurriedly as his hands grazed her thigh and hoisted her leg around h is waist, rubbing his covered groin against her pelvis. His erection pressed so hard against  her, she only grew wetter at the damage she anticipated he could do to her. 

“Hurry up,” she hissed and he chuckled in her ear before she felt his hand going between their flush bodies and freeing that sizable cock until she could feel the fleshy rod between her thighs. 

He kissed her neck, biting on her earlobe as he pushed into her warmth, drawing a ragged gasp from her lips. David slowed and her breaths became faster as she tried to adjust to his considerable size with every inch he slid into her until he was buried to the hilt. She resisted the urge to clench around the welcomed intruder as she let out a shaky breath that he swallowed, nipping at her lower lip before wrestling his tongue against hers. He tasted of wine and it made a pleasant change from the whiskey she usually got to taste. He was moving before she could register the searing heat building between her thighs.

He had barely touched her, and she was already like dynamite with a short fuse, but she focused on his face instead until he buried it into her neck and sucked on her pulse. She let out a sharp cry with each thrust that had her cunt quivering even though he fumbled under the weight of alcohol several times; she felt his rhythm jump from measured to erratic every few thrusts or so and while it was a distraction, it felt good and it felt nice to be beneath him. 

Her moans grew louder and louder, unrestrained by social norms and she felt herself at the plateau of climax more than once, the waves of pleasure ebbing over her but he never quite let the waves crash against the shore, and she wondered if it was intentional for him to keep her on the edge. So she scratched at his back like a feral cat caught in a cage, indicating her impatience and he hissed when she dug her nails in too far and she wanted to feel bad. But she didn’t; she enjoyed the feeling of raking her hands over his flesh. 

When she came, the only noise she made was a loud hum as she bit down on her lip and tried to keep her legs locked around his waist as she heard the first animalistic indications that he was at his own end. She felt him spilling into her and they rocked against one another lightly for a while until their breathing had petered from laboured, to light panting. 

He only rested on top of her for only a moment before he flopped to her side, and she missed his warmth almost immediately. She waited for him to say something, to tell her it was a mistake, for her to feel like it was a mistake, but she didn’t. And he remained silent, so she turned over and flicked the light switch, plunging the room into darkness, pulling the sheet tight around her as she listened to his breathing even out until she knew he was asleep, and she finally closed her eyes.

Blinding pain welcomed her and when she tried to open her eyes as sunlight streamed through a crack in the curtains and she immediately screwed them tight again, settling her head against the fluffy pillow that had been comfort the night before, and a reminder now in the light of day. After a minute, she dared to roll over and face the truth of what she’d done but the other half of the bed was empty and she couldn’t understand the flutter of disappointment that he had robbed her of the pleasure of seeing him sleeping.

Pushing herself into a seated position felt like torture to Julia, but she managed to swing her legs out and rubbed her head when the thumping beneath her eyes drummed on until they settled on the nightstand where a solitary glass of water sat, a piece of paper and two small round pills beside it.

_ Gone to breakfast, see you down there. _

He had scrawling handwriting, nothing like Roger’s smooth cursive and she smiled as she chucked the pills into her mouth, holding the cool glass to her lips and take a large drag on it.

By the time she’d showered, dressed and met David awkwardly for the remainder of breakfast, she felt semi-human, her headache beginning to ease by the time the car was idling back through the olive groves and the sea air filtered through the windows. Both attempts at conversation were stunted and she had almost run to her room, if only to get out of these dirty clothes, with barely a goodbye uttered between them. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning-after regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reviews :)   
Comments really stop writers like me giving up, so please know I appreciate each and every one :)

She rested her head against the shower screen door as the water cascaded down over her, blinding her even before she closed her eyes and she used her hands to rub her shame off her face. What the fuck had she done?! She had never been unfaithful to  Roger , she had held up her end of the vows even when he was off chasing everything in a skirt. She had held the higher ground which now crumbled away beneath her feet. Her hand dropped from her wet hair to her throat as she traced the path of David’s kisses, right down over the swell of her breast and to her navel; each one felt like a burn mark now. When her hand reached the wet spot between her thighs, his face floated before her face, blue eyes thick with unyielding desire for her. Her finger slipped over her clitoris and circled in time to his imagined voice telling her to come before her eyes flew open and she yanked her hand away as if burnt. This wouldn’t do. The resort was big enough for her to avoid being alone with him for the next week, and maybe if she ventured out, she could dodge him entirely. 

Except by the end of a day’s successful avoidance, she was beginning to miss him. She ran a hand through her hair and adjusted the sunglasses on her face, positioning herself on the sunbed so she was just far enough away from the crowds of holiday-makers and honeymooning couples holding hands and sticking their tongues down one another’s throats like they couldn’t bear to be apart, but still within enough range to see him. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

She jumped, gasping in as David walked around her lounger to sit at the one beside her before she could recover herself. 

“I haven’t. I’ve been-” she started, folding her arms and looking at him through the Gucci shades. He looked so effortlessly attractive in button-down shirt and trousers, his hair in messy curls that made her want to tug on them as she screamed his name. 

He leaned forward; hands clasped tightly and hanging between his knees and she noted the pensive smile that was half acceptance as it was sad. She looked away, the familiar ache between her thighs returning and she crossed her legs. 

“Can we talk?” he finally said, raising his glance to hers and she turned away. No. No. No! Everything in her screamed to decline.

“Okay... we could get a glass of wine,” she smirked and his sad face broke into a little giggle.

“No, thanks, I don’t think I ever wanna drink wine again!” he laughed, and she stiffened. Her stomach lurched as the implication reached her chest. She surmised that he recognised the look on her face, for he quickly added: “I’ve never had a hangover that bad!”

He stood up and she frowned, pulling her glasses to the edge of her nose and raised an eyebrow.

“Where are you-”

“To talk,” he said, his thumb jacked over his shoulder and she laughed sardonically, only once.

“We are talking,” she said, tilting her head and tightening her hands in her lap.

“I meant... somewhere a little less... public?” he said with a half laugh and she could see the irritation twitching at the corner of his eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s anywhere private around here,” she countered; all around them were people, even this far away from the main pool. He remained silent, hands on hips as he looked at his feet. “Fine, let’s get that drink.”

Contrary to her words, neither ordered anything other than water; Julia needed to keep a level head to stop THEM from happening again, especially since it seemed neither were able to control themselves around the other whilst intoxicated. Clear headed, she could resist the thought of him fucking her hard against the nearest counter. Just.

“Look... I don’t want shit to be awkward now, so we-” he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “slept together, it was fun and it’s not like we’ve hurt anyone.”

She choked on her mouthful.

“I’m married!” she cried, holding her head in her hand and closing her eyes. “This never happened.”

“You can’t deny what happened because I know you liked it,” he said and for just a moment she recognised something sad in his blue orbs. She wanted to shake her head, but she couldn’t force her body to respond.

“I was drunk, you were drunk-” 

He was being tenacious and a downright pest now and she wanted him off her back so she could continue this shitty trip in lonely peace. 

“I saw your face,” he said and she looked away, blinking back whatever this sudden rush of emotions was. 

“It never happened.” She couldn’t look at him when she said it and she wondered why it felt like breaking up with a lover. 

He scoffed, pushed his glass away from him and stood up so abruptly the stool almost clattered away from him. She closed her eyes, shivering when his breath tickled the back of her neck and his words shot down her spine.

“You can believe it never happened, but I won’t. I liked it. It was the best sex I’ve had in a long time.” 

And he was walking away from her towards the bathroom before she could retort that drunk sex was always shit. Not that she could really lie and say it was bad, because he’d made her come in ways Roger could only think he had. 

David seemed so genuinely angry and upset that she felt something bubbling in her stomach and she chewed her lip. Every nerve in her body throbbed with desire; the forbidden fruit. Ten, nine, eight, seven... she stopped her mental countdown and stood up, following his path to the bathroom and when she walked into him in the hallway, she pulled him back with her into the ladies.

Her mouth was on his before he had a moment to even consider surprise and he was quicker to reciprocate this time around. He was pushing her back against the counter, dragging her dress up around her waist as his lips worked over hers furiously. 

“It’s just sex, right?” she said breathlessly when his mouth moved to her neck, but he didn’t answer. 

He hooked a finger in each side of her knickers and pulled them down without hesitation and she cried out when he dug his fingers into her arse cheeks, squeezing and kneading before he pushed her against the wall. Her leg was hoisted around his waist, hand grazing over her thigh, and when he reached the hot wet folds at the apex, he grinned.

“I told you you liked it,” he murmured close to her lips and she heard the teeth of his zipper coming undone. 

Ragged anticipation fluttered in her chest, her stomach, her cunt as he rested his cock against her entrance. She moved her head to bite at his lip when he rubbed himself against her, but he moved away, and she growled. It petered off to a moan when he pushed in and she flung her arm out to the rack holding towels, smacking it so hard it that several fell from the shelf.

“Oh god,” she groaned as he buried himself inside her, inch by inch, until she could feel him everywhere. 

He drew himself out slowly, before returning with a hard and forceful thrust that had her clinging to his shoulder with her free arm and her face buried in his neck. Moans became fading cries that were swallowed by the sound of his own grunts as he thrust away at her with a renewed vigor that had her back crashing against the wall until he used an arm to cushion the blow. 

“David,” she whimpered, her outstretched hand gripping at the edge of the racking, knuckles white as the hot fire ripped through her and she trembled around him. 

She barely registered his hand on her arse, holding her up when her legs melted beneath her as she rode the orgasm out with pants and gasps that would embarrass even the most seasoned porn star. And she would’ve cared if she wasn’t literally blinded by white ecstasy. 

When she felt something wet slipping down her leg, she realised he had come and pulled out, his face buried into her neck as his chest heaved against hers, his hot breaths peppered against her skin. This wasn’t meant to have happened in the first place and now it had fucking happened twice?! But then he lifted his head, looked at her, her eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips before she leaned in, their mouths converging in a tender, soft meeting. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reviews and comments.

She tapped at her glass with her nail repeatedly, tracing patterns in the condensation as it trailed down the stem. This is ridiculous, she snapped at herself. She looked up and around, listening to the distant clock ticking down the seconds and minutes she had been sat here all alone since he had run off to take a phone call. 

Many times, before she was married, she had dashed out of disastrous dates with the excuse of an urgent call, and she swallowed down that feeling here. He had suggested it for christ’s sake, why would he then fuck off before the starter had even been served? 

Just as the prickling heat of anger was beginning to creep up her neck and over the top of her head, he rounded the corner, stuffing his phone away before sliding into the seat opposite her. Christ he even made sitting down sexy. She gulped down a mouthful of gin and tonic.

“Sorry about that, my mum’s got the kids and-” he stopped and looked at her and she flushed. “You don’t wanna hear about my kids, let’s-”

“No, no it’s okay,” she smiled. Suddenly she wanted to know everything about him. He broke into a cute, wistful smile.

“Well anyway – the kids are with my mum, and my son, Charlie, kept insisting that he wouldn’t go to bed if he didn’t speak to me first, so...” he trailed off with an embarassed laugh and she smiled into her glass. 

“He sounds...” she started with an arched eyebrow and a teasing smirk, “like a handful.” 

David laughed and tilted his head.

“Something like that. Kids eh?” he said with that kind of forced exhaustive yet affectionate way parents usually talked of their children. He sipped on his beer and looked at her with widening eyes. “Do you have kids?”

She held his glance for only a moment before looking over his shoulder at another dining couple. She cleared her throat. “No, I don’t.” 

When she returned her eyes to his she thought she saw something akin to pity perhaps and heat flushed over her entire body. She hated pity. 

“By choice – not because of some inadequacy,” she adds sharply, watching the way his eyes regarded her curiously. 

“I wasn’t-” he started.

“I know – it's just you get used to a certain … attitude when you reveal your motherless,” she tried to say it lightly, but it came out bitter. 

“You don’t have to explain – not all people like or even want kids,” he said gently, and she gave him a one shouldered shrug.

“People either assume I’m cold, unmotherly. Or that, and even my mother-in-law would agree, that I am of poor stock, damaged.”

He looked at her with a slightly slack mouth, his eyes full of ...something and she wanted to go back in time. This was not the sort of thing she liked to talk about on dates.

“That’s... that’s awful,” he said, voice strained. 

“Welcome to the world of the upper class,” she said offhandedly, before the bittered cloud cleared and she realised how it had sounded. “I don’t mean-”

He chuckled, and she wondered if he was making fun of her.

“It’s okay, I barely grew up working class. I’m not ashamed of it,” he said over the glass.

The corners of her lips were tugged upwards at that; she liked a man who was confident in who he was and wasn’t constantly trying to remould himself to fit in with everyone. Like Roger she realised with a start. 

“Can we get out of here?” she said with a spark of vulnerability she despised feeling and he reached out for her hand, running a thumb over the top of it.

“We can do whatever you want,” he said and the very hunger in his eyes, fully trained on her, was enough to make her want to run away with him. 

-x-

Her fingers caught on a wrinkled circular patch of skin on her way back up over his chest to his neck. She circled it, gently prodded and probed to feel how far it spread. When she was unable to discern the answer by touch, she propped herself onto her outstretched arm, looking over the scarred patch.

“What happened?” she said softly, and he turned his head upon the pillow to look at her. “The scar...”

He shifted, and she pulled her hand away before he settled, and she returned her hand to his mottled skin. It was circular with a bizarre crocheted pattern of skin that was silvery pink as it contrasted with the natural tone of his body.

“I was shot,” he said, and her eyes shot from the whispy dark curls of chest hair, up to his face, a subtle frown crinkling her brow. “I was on protective duty and I had to take a bullet to protect someone.”

How exciting! She wanted to remark but saved the words. Instead she leant over and kissed him softly, feeling the edge of his tongue flicking over her lower lip before she pulled away.

“Have you always wanted to be a policeman?” she said softly, smirking when she saw his ear flush a little pink.

“I wanted to be in the army actually – but then I met Vick, we had kids pretty young and I couldn’t bring myself to join and leave them.” She noted the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, the way he frowned and how he suddenly closed himself off, attributing it to the mention of his family that she now realised he must miss tremendously.

“Vick- is your wife?” She hated that jealous feeling settling in the pool of her stomach and tried to sweep it away. He nodded without revealing anything of his feelings. “And your children...”

“Charlie, and Ella,” he added for her and she took a moment to digest with a small smile as she ran her finger over his nipple.

“I think my mother wanted grandchildren,” she suddenly said, and she wondered why. She didn’t usually make a habit of revealing her inner thoughts and insecurities. Perhaps the earth-shattering set of orgasms he’d already given her had loosened her tongue. Or perhaps it was his easy nature that made her more vulnerable and willing. Made her want to tell him everything about her. 

“Bet she’s pleased then,” he  chuckled , and she paused, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. That cream  artexing was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Well it’s not like she would care anyway,” she  said , and she could feel him frowning at her. “We’re not close.”

He let it lie, and she chewed the inside of her cheek. 

“I mean I’m not damaged or anything,” Julia said just to break the silence that befell  them and he reached out to stroke a strand of hair out her face.

“I didn’t think you were even for a second,” he said hoarsely and she turned her head to look at him. 

His mouth moved closer and his leg tangled with her thighs, the white sheets straining against his taut body as he angled himself to look down at her. 

“Forget all that,” he murmured as his lips met hers and her hand trailed over his back, scratching at the muscles that rippled there. 

-x-

There was a warmth around her middle when she opened her eyes on another sunrise and she reached down to feel his arm loosely flung over her, yet still protecting her from the outside world. It felt as nice as it was wrong but as she turned to see David still sleeping, all thoughts of right and wrong evaporated and she just lay there, listening to his gentle breathing as the early morning washed over her. 

“Good morning,” he said just as her eyes had started to drift closed and without opening them she felt his mouth dangerously close to her ear; her suspicions confirmed when his lips pressed against the back of her neck. 

“Mmmm, you best not be priming me for another round, David. I haven’t quite recovered from last night,” she purred as his hand travelled under the duvet to brush her bare hip with slightly calloused fingertips; fingers that had had her mewling his name long into the night previous.

He chuckled lightly against her neck and suddenly drew away.

“I need a shower, feel free to join me,” he said in an almost whisper before he pulled away entirely, removing his warmth from the bed and she was able to appreciate him in full glory, from the dimples on his bare arse, to the hairs that coiled over his chest and right down to the thicket of curls at the top of his thighs. She tried not to linger on his cock as he stretched his arms above his head but she couldn’t divert her eyes quickly enough and he saw her. She wanted to kiss the smirk off his face as he ruffled a hand through his unruly curls and traipsed off to her en-suite.

She rolled onto her side, watching the wispy clouds floating in a sky full of blue. She could do with a shower after all... 

The phone vibrated just as she stood, and she looked behind her to David’s side of the bed, yawning as she saw the phone screen alit and dancing on the table.

“Your phone’s ringing!” she called, but the only reply she got was the thundering of water. She stretched, ran a hand through her hair. Zzzzzzzt. Zzzzzzzt. It sounded like it was growing impatient and she yanked it from the wall charger. “David! Your phone’s …"

The words died on her lips when she saw the caller ID and a white heat spread over her spine, her breath coming in sharp short bursts. Time didn’t run slowly, or tick away faster, she was simply suspended, frozen by the small object in her hands and she almost jumped when the water stopped , and the door was pulled open. 

“I thought you were gonna join-” 

He stopped dead when he saw her, and all at once she felt her stone walls slipping down between them.

“Why is my husband calling you?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why was Roger calling David??

He stared at her, eyes wide like a frightened rabbit and she held up the buzzing phone tightly in her palm.

“And don’t say you can explain,” she  snarled , and he opened his mouth, closed it again before he cleared his throat. “Why is my husband calling you?”

“I can explain,” he said and she scoffed, rolling her eyes into her head as she reached over to pick up the bundle of clothes she’d strewn around the room whilst undressing him so fervently, thrusting them at him and smacking his phone at his chest. “Julia-”

“How do you even know him anyway? You just happened to owe him a favour or...?” she would NOT cry. He was just a man and she was not that far in that she couldn’t just walk away without emotion. Except hot tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she pursed her lips. 

“I’m a protection officer,” he said plainly, like that would answer everything. Except it didn’t. She tilted her head. He got the message. “My job …” their eyes met. “is to protect ministers, cabinet ministers... people like your husband.”

He arched an eyebrow and nausea burned in the pit of her stomach, as her mouth dropped.

“Did he pay you to spy on me?” she said, hand on hip, unable to stop her voice from raising an octave. 

“No.” he said. “Listen can I get dressed because I feel really fucking awkward standing here naked while we have this conversation!”

She watched him pull his trousers and shirt on, leaving it half buttoned and she wondered if he had done that on purpose, to derail the conversation, have her fall back into his arms again. No fucking chance. She ground her teeth and drummed the fingers against her folded arm when her patience wore thin.

“So what exactly did he ask you to do?” she almost spat and he cast his eyes down, digging his hands into his pockets.

“He just wanted me to make sure you’re okay, that you didn’t run into trouble or... I dunno... he hired me to protect you.”

His eyes rose up to meet hers and he let out a little shrug that had her laughing involuntarily.

“Right... so did he hire you to fuck me too or was that an added perk?” she said cuttingly and she saw it had the desired effect when he winced.

“That was never meant to happen...” His voice was so low she had to strain to hear him, but even as he lied she couldn’t find reassurance in his words. She scoffed sardonically, letting her arms fall to her side limply.

“How can I believe you anyway?” She hated the way her voice sounded so weak. “Do you even have kids?” 

He looked at her earnestly, and she felt a rush of something akin to adrenaline. It was so powerful, her eyes danced as stars glittered around her heavy head.

“Everything else I told you was true, Julia.”

“You were just doing your job, right?” It was scathing and she knew it would sting, cut deep perhaps but it was nothing compared to the channel he had carved in her and suddenly she realised how foolish she had been; letting herself fall so quickly for the first man to show he really cared. But even that had been a lie.

“That’s not-” He pinched the bridge of his nose and she wanted to scream, shout, tell him he was a fucking arsehole. She was used to squaring off against bastards all day in office, yet when she opened her mouth, she could spill no vitriol. “That’s not fair.”

She laughed, arching both eyebrows and bit her lip to control the disbelieving smirk from tugging at her mouth.

“Not fair? No what’s not fair is that you pretended to be- you lied to me and that’s not fair,” she trailed off, refusing to let her steely glare drop from his face even if the softness in his eyes made her weaken.

“If I had told you – that your husband had hired me to keep an eye on you, would you have even given me the time of day?” he said flatly and for every minute he was passive and calm tempered, heat bubbled inside her, pushing the pulsing anger up her throat , threatening to expel  every grain of pure hatred she had  circulating her head.

If she had the energy, she’d have  punched him. But it wasn’t him she was mad at was it? Not really when she took a breath and tri ed to  clear the fog . Her stomach lurched and she turned away, avoiding his glance as she went around the room  swiping at her discarded clothing, pulling it on piece by piece like a cottony armour. When she felt less exposed, she wrapped one arm around her middle, the other  running roughly through  her hair, snagging on the ends as she resisted the temptation to tear it from the roots. 

“I -” she faltered , dropping her hand to her side. “No.”

“ Which would have made my job all the harder,” he said with a little smile. 

Julia swallowed hard. She  WAS just a job; a mission or task to be completed then brushed aside. This was her own fault. She  had been stupid enough to find his attention flattering, her  barriers chipped away by his attractiveness.  God even now she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t pull him to the bed and let him fuck her if he begged.

“And I enjoyed our time,”  he added when she remained silent, looking at him  through narrowed eyes.

“I’m sure you did!”

“I didn’t mean just the sex-” he took a step forward and she  instinctively moved in the opposite direction. 

“Did he hire you to shag me?” she asked again, hand pinching at her hip as she dug her nails into  it beneath  her shirt. He had the audacity to look at her as if offended. 

“Are you really asking me that?” he asked, barely above a whisper. She would not break in front of him, ref used to show him more weakness. 

“Well I think I have the right to know whether that bastard thought it necessary to hire me a prostitute!” she snarled,  and he clenched his jaw. God he was so beautiful. Prick!

“ Come on Julia, I thought you were smarter than that,” he chided, his smirk a sure sign he was making fun of her and  she drew her lips into a thin line,  her teeth so tightly together she was sure she’d break them.

“I thought I was too, yet I let some hired dogs body into my bloody bed-” She steadied her rapid breathing and they squared off against one another, his face reddened and his eyes cold. 

“Now you’re just  being insulting.” David shook his head slowly and so condescendingly that she wanted to  cross the room a nd … what? Hit him? She was not one to relish physical violence; disliked it immensely in fact and yet her fist itched as it curled up and flexed repeatedly by her side.

“Don’t even-” she warned, voice getting dangerously low; she was utilising her best Commons’ voice that had seen bigger men than him, quiver at her feet. Yet it had no effect on David whatsoever.

“What? You can be angry Julia, but you don’t get to discredit or  minimise me or what I do. I was hired to act as a PPO to the  Defence Secretary. That was the extent of my task. Everything else was …" he threw his hands up in the air. 

“What? An opportunity to broaden your horizons?” she sniped, and he balled his fists on his hips.

“What are you angrier about? Your husband checking up on you or that I didn’t tell you about it?” he said, and she took a sharp breath inward as she sank down onto the bed, rubbing away the soreness in her head.

“I’d like you to leave now.”

She didn’t care how weak she sounded, she needed him gone and he hesitated.

“Julia...” he said softly, taking a step towards her until her glare halted him.

“Please, leave,” she said, the pain of a thousand betrayals blossoming inside her chest until it became an out of control wildfire. She couldn’t watch him leave, but she saw him linger in her peripheral before he let out a small sigh and was gone with the quiet closing of the door. 

She waited, tried to count to a hundred in her head, getting as far as seventeen before she snatched her phone from the bed and almost cracked the screen with the force of her punching digits in. She chewed on her lip as the rings droned on.

"You’ve reached Mr Penhali-” 

With a guttural cry she launched the phone at the wall, watching it slide to the floor where it lay smashed like the fractured pieces in her head that were desperately scrambling to piece together a suitable narrative where she wasn’t the one who got dicked over, yet again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reviews!!  
A few of you have asked about David's POV - unfortunately I had already written the whole fic before I started posting so it is all in Julia's POV.

It was raining, as per usual, when her  cab pulled up to her flat. She already hated being back in London, but she had seen no reason to remain for the rest of the week at the resort; it had become too lonely and she was reduced back to watching happy couples and their displays of love and affection that had somehow melted away from view when David had been around. 

Her only joy came in how she pictured Roger’s face when she turned up four days early.  This was ripped from her almost right away as she dragged her case up the stairs and opened the door to pure darkness. She sighed and dropped her case to the floor in the hallway, running a hand through her hair roughly until the thought of David’s hands in her hair came rushing in and she dropped her hand to the side with a frustrated whine. How many more things would she have to cut out of her life to block all thought of him from mind? How had someone so... tenacious barreled into her life, torn it apart in the most pleasurable ways possible, and then shattered her world in two. 

Julia Montague did not feel things easily; she did not fall for Roger at first sight, nor could she say she had ever loved him as much as she had Davi-

She interupted her own thoughts when she threw her keys on the counter and looked around. This was ‘home’.

“Don’t chip the marble darling” 

It was something he had said to her countless times over the years, each time she had put something on the counter, or dropped a pan, or bottle opener and here he was, harping on at her from inside her own head. Her hand itched as she saw herself smashing up his precious fucking marble until the feeling passed and she was back to stressed loneliness. 

It would have been nice if Roger had been here, she thought bitterly as she stalked to the bedroom. Would it though? It would have been nice for some noise and company, even if it was just him and his babbling over politics. 

At least he’d changed the sheets. She ran her finger over the silk comforter and quickly shrugged her clothes off, stalking to the bathroom in only her underwear. She took care of her nightly routine before she slid into the cool bed, pulling the sheet right up to her chin and when the room crashed into darkness, she closed her eyes. She had been dying for sleep since the plane took off and had thought about her bed the entire way, except now... her eyes flew open and her chest heaved with heavy exhalation. 

Are you kidding me?? She pulled the sheet down to just under her breasts and stared at the ceiling. A thousand images start flashing through her mind, and most of them involved the same Scottish bastard. Her throat made a growling sound she barely recognised as coming from herself and threw her arms flat onto the bed either side of her. 

Oh how she wanted him. Still. After everything that had happened in the pas t 8 days, she still wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to press his body against hers.

“For fuck’s sake!” she hissed. She was just horny that’s all. It wasn’t like she and Roger didn’t have sex; it just usually meant only one of them was satisfied. And it was never her. So she was lusting after the elusive big ‘O’ that David had apparently been very skilled at providing. It didn’t mean she wanted HIM...

She closed her eyes and slid her hand beneath the sheets, finding the spot between her thighs that was the only source of warmth in the room. It was as hot as it was wet, and she ground her teeth before settling into her fantasy. Her middle finger glided between her folds like a hot knife through butter and her parted lips couldn’t keep a melting sigh from escaping. She remembered his slightly calloused fingers and whined when her fingers just didn’t feel the same on her skin as she bucked her hips into her palm, desperate to remember how he made her feel; her pulse jumped when she touched her clit, swirling her finger over it in rough circles. 

She moaned and writhed as his blue eyes swam in front of hers, passion and desire so strong she felt burned by the sun.

“You’re so wet,” she  im a gining him saying, a s her eyes began to lose focus when the spike of climax had started to build, like a boiling kettle, ready for the switch to pop and to release the pressure but when Roger’s face replaced David’s, she couldn’t and she screwed her face up.

“Please,” she murmured to only herself as David’s cerulean blues nudged Roger from view and he grinned that perfect little fucking smile of his.

“Come,”  the im a ginary David said a nd she let herself go hurtling over the edge with a loud guttural groan. 

She wiped her hand on the sheet and her panting breaths filled the still air as the high of climax was quickly replaced with the empty feeling the pit of her stomach. She did miss him, and she hated it.

-x-

The water had washed away the sins of the previous night, even if she still knew deep down she was missing David. And that was before she had even started berating herself for not calling Roger to at least try and find out where he was. Her head ached already and it was barely ten. 

She could go to work... though she was booked for the rest of the week off... did she want all her colleagues thinking she was some sad workaholic who returned home early just to get back to work? The thought was unbearable especially since half of them hated her anyway, the rest pitied her. 

She padded into the kitchen, throwing open the nearest window to let the cold London air overpower the staleness in the flat while she flicked the kettle to boil. From the papers strewn across the dining table amidst the fruit bowl that always laid barren, it was clear he had in fact been home at some point and as she thumbed some of the papers, she jumped when the kettle popped, regaining her attention as she dropped the report on a thwarted terrorist attack and filled her cup with the blackest coffee possible. Anything to break through the fuzz in her head. 

The steam carried the heavy scent to her  nose and she sipped it as she returned to the table, her interest piqued when she saw David’s name in the terrorist report. So that’s how he really knew him! A dull ache settled in her chest when she  realised he had yet again, lied to her. Julia’s eyes were drawn, however to a manila folder concealed beneath the rest. They didn’t often hide thin g s from one another, not unless it was required by the state, but she had seen documents secured in envelopes like this before, when she had been a legal secretary, then a solicitor, and her stomach filled with lead before the prickle of betrayal crept up her spine. 

_ Application for divorce... _

“That son of a-” Hot tears rushed down her cheeks before she could stop them and the cup of coffee fell from her hands, clattering to the wooden floor and smashing in a wet puddle. “Fuck!” 

-x-

“Hello,” she said coldly, sitting back in the chair, an almost empty glass of wine held precariously by a forefinger and thumb. She had angled herself so she could see him the moment he came through the door, but was shrouded from his view.

“Jesus christ!” he hissed to himself, clutching his chest as he forced a smile. “Darling you’re home...” 

“Yeah... where have you been?” 

He stopped, face and hand dropping simultaneously before he diverted his attention to adjusting the silver cufflink on his shirt. It was most certainly not a pair she had bought him, nor had ever seen before. Cold, hard reality was beginning to settle in, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

“I’ve been working … a lot more than normal – a few developments came up with the migration crisis and the RIPA 18 bill-” She had to admire the sleek way he could fall into any lie.

“I went to your office... they said they hadn’t seen you for two days,” she arched her eyebrows and he did what he usually did when caught in a lie. 

He folded his arms and rolled his eyes.

“You’re overreacting, Julia. You’re tired and you’ve concocted some narrative in your head that you now can’t tell the difference between reality and your own weird fantasy,” he said passively, yet with such disdain, her breath hitched.

“If I’m overreacting, what the fuck is this?” she snapped, pulling the divorce papers from behind her back and throwing them at him. He didn’t bother reaching to catch them, letting the waterfall of paper fall at his feet but his eyes widened slightly before he covered the moment of surprise with a clenched jaw.


	12. Chapter 12

“Well it’s hardly a surprise is it?” he said and shrugged with one shoulder, finally bending to gather the distasteful pages into a bundle and tossing them onto the table before thrusting his hands into his pockets.

“Well actually, it kind of fucking is!” she snapped and he had the audacity to look at her like she was the crazy, irrational one.

“You’ve been miserable for months, I’ve been unhappy for a while,” he said, sinking down into the nearest chair, picking at the edge of the table. He suddenly sounded sad, voice low and his posture defeated. 

“Roger...” she said, the harsh edge now clipped from her voice. She tilted her head and frowned. “Are you really that unhappy?”

Was he? She hadn’t noticed obvious signs... except maybe the secretary

Was she? She had willingly slept with another man... more than once...

She had thought they could muddle on for the next ten, twenty years but in light of meeting David, she couldn’t think of anything worse.

“Aren’t you?  W e both know this marriage has been dead for a long time,” he said it so matter-of-factly, that tears prickled at the back of her eyes. How could he reduce their marriage to just twenty sheets of paper?! It was going to be another failure to add to her mother’s tally chart.

She fell silent, playing with her quivering lower lip as she desperately worked to control her heavy breathing.

“Did you plan all this? Before I even went away? Or was that a convenient diversion?” 

He breathed in, his eyes almost full of boredom as he regarded her like an annoyance, not his wife of just under a decade.

“Oh Julia...” he said in that condescending way that made her feel three inches tall. It was a tone she would not let him get away with now.

“I don’t understand  …  if you care so little for me , why on earth did you hire some policeman to watch over me?” she said, straightening her back and he frowned.

“If you mean Sergeant Budd, I didn’t send him to watch over you … I sent him because quite frankly, I didn’t trust you. I assumed you had to have been having an affair,” he shrugged carelessly, and her face felt hot.

“No, we don’t all live by your standards,” she said painfully before spitting, “darling.”

He smiled into his lap, shaking his head only once and she chewed the inside of her cheek. She could probably hit him hard enough to break his nose... 

“He was paid to report to me on your every move, everyone you spoke with,” he said, rubbing his hairless chin, his grey eyes calculating as they were just … done with everything. Done with her. 

“Did you pay him to fuck me too?” she spat at him before leaning back in the sofa, shoulders slumping. She was tired of fighting, “was that your plan all along?” 

Roger’s lips twitched into a smirk and he scoffed.

“You slept with him?” 

She opened her mouth to reply but he wouldn’t give her the chance.

“What happened to not living by my standards hm?” He couldn’t stop the half sneer, half grimace cracking his usually impassive face in two. She wanted to hurt him, like he had hurt her.

She glared, chewing her inner cheek until she drew blood as he just laughed.

“There aren’t enough men in London to live up to your standards,” she hissed like the cornered cat she was.

“I can’t believe you slept with a  plod! ” His laugh was as mocking as it was coarse and cut through her head like razor wire. She stood up abruptly, putting as much distance between them as she could by walking to the breakfast bar, running her fingertips over his precious marble. When she turned to face him, he was suddenly five feet closer.

“Well Roger if you were even ever remotely able to make me come, I wouldn’t have had to!” she sneered, covering her alarm, and the arrogant smile fell from his face. “And believe me – he did. All night long!”

He stared at her, nostrils flaring as she imagined him trying to fit his manhood back into one piece. He suddenly lunged for her, grabbing her wrist and she instinctively pulled away.

“If a good fucking was all you wanted, why didn’t you say so?” he spun her around, trapping her between him and the counter, hand around her throat, the other teasing the hem of her dress up, fingers probing between her thighs, nails digging in until she winced.

When she resisted, he pulled her hair and his fingers crept into her mouth and she wanted to rip his pencil dick off and shove it down his throat. Just as he undid his fly, she bit down on his hand, shoving him hard away from her.

“Keep your fucking hands off me!” she snarled breathlessly, readjusting her dress so he could no longer see the marks he’d left on her. His hair was ruffled, marring his perfect appearance and if she didn’t feel so violated, she would have laughed at how ridiculous he looked. Instead she glared as he zipped his fly, straightened his hair. 

“Sign the papers, pack your bags and you can go and play happy families with your boyfriend,” he said so unemotively, he might as well be reading a shopping list.

“You pack your bags! This is my fucking house!” She braced herself, drew up her weapons for a fight but he lingered only for a moment before he took a step, passing so close to her she could feel the angry heat radiating off of him. 

“Just sign the fucking papers,” he growled and then he was gone with a slam of the door. She let out a breath.

Nausea burned in the pit of her stomach and rose rapidly as she threw herself at the sink and vomited her entire stomach contents until there was nothing left and all she could bring up was sickly bile. She hung her head in the sink until she had stopped retching, pouring herself a glass of water and gulping it down before pouring another. It was only then she realised her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

-x-

The envelope was gone, Julia’s decade long marriage was in its death throes, and she should have been at least a tiny bit glad. Should she? Or sad? She had loved Roger, but it was a kind of stale love, one that had been born out of duty and only harboured a small flame that had guttered until it finally went out. Now all that was left was cold steel hardness.

“Julia?” 

She snapped her head to the direction of the disembodied voice, coming from somewhere beside her. When her eyes connected with her aide; a pitiful man who tried to be the hero no one asked but usually wound up just being the idiot left on the side. His mouth was opened in surprise and she cleared her throat.

“Yes, what?” she said, the agitation prickling the hairs on her neck as she fought the damned headache that had crept up on her just after Roger had left last week and had not abated since.

“I was getting you up to speed on the current threat levels.” 

Her head swiveled to the minister of counterterrorism, her eyes narrowing when they locked with his; Mike Travis. A toad like little man with jam-jar glasses and a bald, shiny head that shared a striking resemblance to a bowling bowl, Mike was not a man she liked to deal with often, especially since he was in her soon-to-be ex-husband's back pocket like a puppet with a large mouth. Where was Roger in fact? Wasn't he supposed to be at this meeting too? Never afraid to face off against parliament but too scared to face her. She pursed her lips to stop the smirk.

“Right...” she arched an eyebrow and tilted her head. “And?!” 

He clenched his jaw and squared off against her. Yet another man who hated coming up against a strong woman. It was a tiring pool of cowardly sharks and snapping piranhas she had to deal with every day and she wondered how much longer she could continue. 

“I was explaining that the PM believes, and Roger and I agreed on this, that cabinet ministers are going to need a level of protection in the coming months because of the RIPA bill, and because of the registered threat levels. So...” he paused dramatically like a schoolteacher trying to draw out the interest of his pupils. It only tired Julia when the thudding pain in her head had already split her brain into pieces and nausea was joining the mix, bubbling up in her stomach. 

The room was so stuffy, she pulled at her blouse collar and tried tugging her hair away from her sweaty neck; it didn’t work, and the prickling heat rose further up her spine and over her head until she was sure she’d suffocate. This meeting needed to be done now and when she looked up at him, Mike was still droning on. He looked directly at her and she rolled her shoulders, anything to ease the ache in her muscles.

“There are already some PPOs in the cabinet, but they will now be assigned to the permanent secretary, myself, and you, Julia. With immediate effect.” 

Oh … good … god NO! Fate would not be that unkind to her, surely?? Julia’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.  Surely , he would be busy with some other dignitary and Roger would never be that cruel, would he? Did he even have a say in the PPO assignments?!

The meeting passed by in a daze and she was among the first to leave, rushing to the nearest bathroom. Once through the door she threw herself to the floor, her case and bag clattering to the floor beside her as her stomach squeezed until lunch was streaming from her mouth until her loud heaves became raw gags and she settled back against the wall, her hand leaning up to push her hair out her eyes and forehead. She was covered in a film of sweat and a lead like tension seized her abdomen that only eased with several deep breaths. 

By the time she had exited the toilet, she was the epitome of cool, collected... strong; a leader in the making until a man in a black suit approached her with a stiff back and a face made of stone.

“Ma’am, I’m PC Fenton, I’m your newly assigned protective officer,” the man’s voice was unemotive, thick with a trace of a London background and she daren’t try and guess his voting record. He thrust out a hand and she rolled her neck before she took it, letting his firm grasp tighten around her fingers. 

“Hello,” was all she afforded him. “I’m ready to go home now, please.” 

“As you wish ma’am,” Fenton turned his back to her and led her along the all too familiar route through the building that she took every morning unaided. Tears prickled at her eyes, so she closed them when they got to the lift, waiting dutifully for the doors to open. 

Why had she so expected HIM to be there? She didn’t want him to be her PPO and yet … Suddenly it was final. She knew now she would never see David again and god that hurt more than she was willing to admit to anyone . If  Fenton noticed her increased breath rate, he never gave any indication.


	13. Chapter 13

By the third week, Julia was beyond fed up of PC Tom Fenton’s presence in her life and every morning she opened her front door to find him poised on her doorstep and ready for action, she wanted to scream. Each time he escorted her home and his very London accent didn’t dissolve into Scottish, she wanted to fire him. When the doorbell rang on a stormy Thursday evening, long into her current report on the elevated risks of migration from outside of Europe, her head flew up, gaze flickering to the corridor in which the door stood at the end of.

She frowned and her stomach erupted into a fluttering of butterflies that she instantly tried to quell. It could be... It wouldn’t be … but it could … 

She pulled on the handle.

“What do you want?” Her voice came out more bitter than she would have liked; she didn’t want him to believe their separation and subsequent divorce was hurting her.

Roger pushed past her into the house and she watched him with gritted teeth.

“I said what do you want?” she folded her arms and followed him into the living room, watching as he stalked to her bedroom before she lurched after him. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I need my suit,” he said, rifling through her wardrobe as if that answered everything. She screwed her face up and dropped a hand to her hip.

“Roger, I don’t have time for your shit. We both know you have a dozen suits, so what do you really want?” she sniped and his arm stopped, arm mid-air before he rested his hand flat on the wooden panel.

“I need my Armani tuxedo for Terry’s Black and White ball.” 

He sounded so resigned, and fed up, rage boiled inside her.

“It’s not like you need it right this minute, do you?? Did you think it was convenient for me? For christ’s sake, you can go out and buy another fucking suit if you’re so bloody desperate!” 

He stared at her with those piggy intense eyes of his, ones that usually had her shifting in her own skin but tonight she flat out refused to give him the satisfaction. 

“Are you being deliberately obtuse, or have you been drinking too much again?” 

Her jaw clenched of its own accord and she knew her lips were pulling into a grimace. She held her ground regardless.

“The party is this weekend for god’s sake! Where on earth would I get a tailored tuxedo before then hmm?” He was looking at her expectantly and she felt her fist twitch at her side. He knew as well as she that that party was held on the twenty-first of every October which was positively weeks away. 

“The twenty-first-” she started, determined, ridiculing and he frowned.

“Yes … this weekend. Good god do keep up, Julia! How do you think you’re going to take my job if you can’t even keep track of the days?” he sneered. How dare he waltz into her house and ridicule her?! Who the fuck did he think-

Days flashed through her mind ; she couldn’t possibly have been back in London for six sodding weeks! She hadn’t had- She had been busy with work but surely , she would KNOW her body...

Julia shook her head, a movement so small Roger undoubtedly missed it as he pulled out more shirts and dresses until he found what he was looking for.

“I trust you won’t be attending.” He turned to turn and posed it like a threat but she barely recognised his words. When she didn’t respond, he scoffed but she didn’t care. Nor did she care when he left, only realising he was gone when the door slammed, dragging her from the reverie. 

If it had been six weeks since she’d returned... Oh god.

-x-

Ignoring the problem did not make it go away, she found. In  fact , the anxiety of it made it hard to sleep, hard to think or even breathe at times. It couldn’t be what she thought, and it had to be the stress.  Yes that’s right... she had been severely stressed the past few months and she had been late before, like when her father died. That was stressful.

No that was wishful thinking. She couldn’t ignore the problem forever. 

Three sticks lined the bathroom shelf and Julia paced the room, chewing on her thumbnail. Why did two minutes suddenly feel like a damned lifetime?! 

She checked her watch, checked it again ten seconds later, sure that a minute had already passed, and her stomach squeezed with the threat of rising bile. She swallowed hard, leaning her head over the sink and breathing in until she was sure her lunch was not about to make a repeat performance.

It had to have been two minutes now! She breathed in... through the nose, hold for 5 seconds, feel the air inflating the stomach, then let it out for five seconds through the mouth. Rinse and repeat. She closed her eyes, reopened them and reached over to the first of the plastic sticks, picking it up with trembling hands and turning it over between her fingers to look at it. 

Her brain misfired, couldn’t quite understand what she was looking at and she scoffed, reaching over to pick up the next one, then the next one, holding all three in her hand like a crap consolation prize. All three read the same, all three were a commentary on how her life would play out now.

Fuck.

-x-

“It’s just a pill?” How many times was her brainless mouth going to repeat that? 

The nurse sighed wearily. Her tag read Ruth Stewart. She didn’t look like a Ruth. Ruth was a name she associated with the upper class elderly her mother played bridge with, not a Harley Street abortion clinic nurse.

“Yes, if eligible, after we’ve done some scans and checks, you can take the mifepristone here today and the follow up misoprostol at home in a few days. The pregnancy will pass within a few hours of the second pill.”

The words were cold and clinical, much like Julia had spent her entire life; cold and detached from emotions. Except her hormones were raging and her eyes were watering too fast to wipe the tears away.

Ruth looked at her through narrowed eyes. 

“We have counsellors on site, to help women make the decision... they’re here to help,” she said, sinking to the bed beside her. “Julia... have you talked to the father?”

David’s face floated before her eyes, and not for the first time since she had last seen him, and she clenched her jaw.

“No, he’s not in the picture and I don’t intend to talk to him. He has no say in this,” she said, fingering the leaflet in her lap, curling the edges in on themselves like she was ready to tear it apart. She looked up, straight ahead at some of the “comforting” posters on the wall before she cleared her throat. “I didn’t come for counselling, or to talk about the father. I came to rid myself of this inconvenience.”

The nurse withdrew her hand quickly from her shoulder and stood up.

“Okay well we just have to do a quick scan, if you want to just pop onto the bed and lift your shirt up.”

The gel was cold. Everyone always commented on it being cold in movies and those of her friends who had had children, but nothing had quite prepared her for the frigid matter splattering against her stomach. She couldn’t stop the sudden intake of breath either, gaining her another watchful eyebrow rise from the woman in charge of her care.

“It’s a little cold,” she said, and Julia stared at her before the wand was placed on her. She turned her head away from the screen, staring through the closed curtain to make out the shape of the door and her escape.

“Okay so you’re between six to eight weeks along, which means you are eligible for the two-step pill and I just need to check the heartbeat-” Julia’s head snapped back to the nurse. 

“Why do you need to check its heartbeat if I'm just going to-” the words died on her lips when she saw the small bean in black and white, the fast thud-thud of a lifeform filling the room. That was her child. The size of a baked bean, and barely anything but cells clumped together but it was hers. And David’s, she thought bitterly. Her eyes watered and she turned away from the screen before immediately finding herself staring back at it, listening to the little thuds of life.

The sound melted almost as suddenly as it had begun as the machine was turned off and Ruth turned to her, eyes cast down on the chart in front of her. Every time she scribbled something; Julia wanted to tell her to stop.

“Can I take the pill today?” She said instead and Ruth looked up at her, a sigh heavily falling from her mouth.

“You can, yes...” 

Julia closed her eyes and bit her quivering lip.

When she finally got home, exhausted and entirely burned out, Julia pushed the front door open with her shoulder. She stood in the foyer, uttering a series of huffs and sighs as she laboured under the heavy burden of her decision that would undoubtedly change the way she felt about everything, one way or the other. She closed her eyes, let the dead silence wash over and somewhere over the absence of noise, she could hear a clock ticking down the seconds left of her life like a painful reminder of the grim reaper. This was fucking ridiculous! Her heels were kicked off, hair allowed to fall around her shoulders, and she pushed herself away from the wall.


	14. Chapter 14

“I still don’t have the third and fifth pages,” her voice was ragged and already enraged as she barked into the phone. “No! Rob that was YOUR job. Not mine! So make sure you meet me down here in the next half an hour or you’ll have no job.” 

The phone was discarded onto the seat beside her as she picked up her pencil, circling a word on the speech pages she did have.

“There’s a bit of traffic back up ma’am, we’ll be a little behind schedule,” Tom Fenton’s voice was calm from the front seat and she stared at the back of his head. As if today couldn’t get any worse! Her stomach twitched as the car rounded a corner too fast and Terry had to slam his foot on the breaks to allow for the aforementioned traffic piling up and her eyes glared at the grey whiskers that resembled hair on the back of his head. 

Fenton hadn’t been exag g erating; Westminster was horribly backed up today and at this rate she very much ran the risk of being late. Something Roger would lord over her for years to come as they went from sparring spouses to warring polit i cians, both on the same side yet somehow unable to tolerate sharing oxygen. But the car eventually crept towards the Parliament building and she was out the door before her PPO could open it, sucking in air to settle her stomach. 

As Fenton came around to her side, she took three steps towards the building when a blonde woman passed in front of her. She was known to Julia as a member of her party, and cabinet but she was a caustic woman in change of housing, a lesser important sector in Julia’s opinion and she was already irritated enough that she side-stepped to the left to avoid sharing her airspace. 

She walked straight into someone, or rather someone walked straight into her and she angrily pulled away.

“Do you mind?!”

“My apologies ma’am.” 

The voice was familiar... too familiar and she leapt back from the brute who had barreled into her and fixed him with a trademark glare. He faltered, presumably at the sight of her but she couldn’t imagine why he was so surprised to see her. 

“Sorry-” David started to say before the blonde bombshell was back.

“ Ohhh Julia!” Esther said, flipping her hair behind her.  Of course , David would get assigned to her. She wondered if they’d fucked yet. She felt a lurching in her stomach and her nostrils flared when she tried to breathe in. 

“I don’t really have-” Why couldn’t she take her eyes off his face? Why did it still hurt to see him even after everything she knew? Fuck she hated him with every fibre of her being. 

Julia forced her glance to Esther’s face, blinking far too rapidly as she worked to keep her eyes there. 

“Ma’am... we should move inside...” the Scottish accent made her knees weak and she cleared her throat, tilting her head expectantly at her part-time rival. 

“In a minute, David,” Esther hissed behind her and Julia caught the tail end of an eye-roll. Despite herself, a small smile crept to her mouth; she was pleased by the  rev e lation of their somewhat fractious relationship. “Julia, I really need to talk to you about the leadership vote later. There are some serious problems and points with-” 

“Yes, yes, I know, you should come to my office. Just give my aid a call and we’ll fix it in the diary.” Julia was not used to being so accommodating to irritants but by god she really wanted this woman, and her fucking bodyguard, way out of her orbit. As Esther started babbling, her eyes went to David’s sullen face and a spark shot up her arm when she saw his eyes were just as fixated on her as she was him.

She stepped away, turning her back on them and hoped that Esther would get the hint that their conversation was at its end.

“Julia,” David said  softly , and her breath hitched when she turned to him. If anyone had heard his blatant disregard of formal titles, no one gave any indication. 

“Julia!” her head whipped too fast in the opposite direction and Rob floated into view. In his hand was the elusive papers she had needed all along. And was that...? Did he look proud of the fact he had brought them? She glared at him until he was almost on top of her. God that was a revolting thought.

Her gaze landed on David, still watching her even when he should be watching his principal and Rob melted from her consciousness for a moment before she shook herself down mentally.

“Finally!” she hissed as Rob thrust them into her hands, and she watched his self-satisfied smile melt from his face. Good! 

“I’m sorry – I got here as quickly as I could, there seems to be quite a buildup on-” 

“I’m not interested, just go back to doing your job,” Julia hissed, and she was secretly pleased with the wounded look on his face. 

“I really didn’t mean to leave them-” he started, stuttering under the weight of her scorn and she closed her eyes, taking in a breath.

“Just... go back to the office and try not to burn it down. I’m sure you could handle that.” 

She was turning away from him, beckoning to Fenton as she made to walk into the commons but a hand on her arm pulled her attention away. When their eyes met, she paled a little under the intensity of his glance. This was an obsession that needed to end. That’s all it was; a stupid obsession that had devolved her intelligent brain into a lovelorn pile of mush. 

Julia pulled her arm away and was mid retort when the first scream cracked the otherwise bustling sounds of a busy day in London. She whirled around and David was already moving away from her before she saw the van, a white nondescript box, hurtling towards the gates. A blur of hair and flailing limbs was thrown into the air and landed with a sickening crunch as more screams exploded around her. People – tourists, colleagues, friends were scattered like rats deserting a sinking ship. David?! She looked for him through the crowd of chaos but she couldn’t see him and she was immediately pulled back out of the path of the van, which collided with the crowd dramatically, pushing people down like skittles before crashing through the wall of the parliament building with such a force it carved its way into the main hall like a hot knife through butter where it came to a rolling stop amidst broken bricks, splintered glass and shattered bodies. 

Her breath caught when she saw him, on his knees and bending close to a woman who might have had blonde hair had it not been stained almost entirely red. He was not seeking her out in the crowd and yet she still gravitated towards him, pushing amongst the frantic people, all of whom were desperate to get out.

“David!” she called amongst the din of dozens of panicked people. He looked up at her, his eyes sad yet hardened with professionalism. She followed his hand to see his fingers fumbling for a pulse on Esther. His defeated posture told her everything and she stopped.

He waved his arm around wildly, yelling something at her but there was a dizzy thickness suffocating her head and she could neither hear him, nor compute what he was trying to say.

A light ignited like a supernova star and the sound was catastrophic. The boom of it, drowned all her senses as she was pushed backwards, feeling the air moving past her in slow motion until she hit the ground. 

The concrete connected with her back first, then her head and she winced as pain split her skull. Blackness crept in around the edge of her vision. Julia tried to sit up, but she couldn’t and when she touched her head, her fingers came away bloodied. 

“Ow!” she murmured to herself as she finally pulled herself up. 

She looked across the courtyard, at what used to be the front of the building, debris and shreds of everything littering the ground like confetti after a wedding. There were pools of red, splatters of it across the bricks, and everything was covered in a fine film of brick dust and dirt. She took a shaky breath and her lungs burned so much that when she coughed to dislodge the dust, she thought she was suffocating. 

There was an eerie silence in the aftermath, something one could never equate with London, but it seemed that the world had come to a stop for several long moments before the desolate wailing set in with a backdrop of screaming sirens. Putting her hand out on the floor to steady herself, Julia flinched when something sharp dug into her palm and when she brought it up to her face, she saw the glass chunk and tried to pick at it. 

“Julia!” she raised her thick head up to the  voice and frowned. “Thank god you’re alright!”

Rob was touching her and dragging her to her feet before she started spinning around looking at the ground, first for her lost belongings and then her breath caught, her eyes darting wildly around the scene. She couldn’t see him; he had been so close to the light, but she couldn’t remember seeing if he had been engulfed in it. Tears prickled her eyes and Rob tightened his grip on her arm.

“We need to get you checked out,” he was saying, and she shook her head weakly though she didn’t resist his gentle tugging as she was steered into the back of a waiting ambulance. She lifted her arm, blazer dirtied and stained, to point into the crowd of survivors and victims.

“What about-” she tried to say but it came out so weak he probably hadn’t heard her.

-x-

The clock ticked so loudly inside her head that she wanted to scream but the noise would crush her brain even more than headache she already had. Seconds dissolved quickly one after the other and she only managed to drag her eyes away it when a figure approached.

“There, a nice cup of tea,” Rob’s face swam into view as he sat beside her, and he looked cautiously to her head. “Looks sore.”

“It’s fine,” Julia said waspishly as she took her tea from him, without sipping on it. She held it in her lap to get cold as they fell into silence. “What happened to-”

Her attention, only slightly sharpened now she’d been given the medical all-clear, was dragged to the TV at the other end of the corridor.

“Suspect... middle aged white male... van into parliament...” the report was broken between the bustling typical sounds of a hospital. “Thirteen injuries and seven fatalities, including at least one politician, and one police officer...”

No!

“I’m sorry … ”


	15. Chapter 15

“Fenton?” she said, an inexplicable sadness washing over her that felt bittersweet when she was relieved to hear David was not among the fatalities. 

“I’m sorry Julia... I know he’s only been with you a few months , but it must be really hard for you to hear-” Rob was rambling  again , and she wanted to screw her eyes tight, curl into a ball and pretend the world didn’t exist. 

“Where’s David?” she cut across him and he frowned.

“Who’s David?” he said, and she returned her gaze to the cup of greying tea in her lap. “Once you’ve done your statement, let me take you home.”

The idea was suddenly sickening to her.

“I need you to go to the office and draft something for...” she paused as she  realised she didn’t actually remember the first name of her PPO. “PC Fenton’s family.”

He looked at her  and she rolled her shoulders, mouth open ready with a retort to his obviously questioning glance. 

“I think I should stay  here ; in case you need  anythin -” 

When he shook his head, she wanted to scream.

“Please!” she said sharply, and he fell into submission, rising to his feet and melting away from her peripheral. When the door opened and closed, she reached down and left the cup on the floor, clenching her fist tightly to prevent the trembling in her fingers.

“Julia?” she looked to the door when she heard her name, before she  realised it was only Rob.  “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

Her head pounded and she ran a hand through her matted hair, dreading the moment she would have to wash it. The  wound at the edge of her  temple w as still  raw , and  the glue  pulled at her skin when she brushed against it . She winced.

“David, PS Budd.”

Her head whipped up and she felt the fresh bolt of pain ripple through her. She didn’t care. Her heart pounded furiously hard against her ribs as she imagined Rob’s chagrin before he disappeared to do his job and the door opened. He looked at her, watched her with cool blue eyes as she rose to her feet but by the time she had crossed the 10 feet cavern that separated them, his eyes  softened, though he clenched his jaw as she tentatively reached out for him. She snaked her arms around him awkwardly like an explorer marking out uncharted territory even though she knew this ground well enough by now. When she rested her head on his shoulder, turning her face into the warmth of his neck, she heard him sigh and the first stings of rejection began to trickle down her spine. 

Then she felt his arms wrapping around her and she closed her eyes, a lump forming in her throat as she tightened her grip on him, breathing in his scent. Everything about him made her feel safe. 

“I told the officers you’d come in tomorrow for your statement, I think you need to go home,” he said and she didn’t argue, simply let him lead her through the corridors and into … she presumed, his car. 

When he didn’t pull the  car away, she looked at him. His face was  blank, and he squinted with one eye.

“I don’t know where you live...” he  said , and she rested her head on the headrest.

“I don’t want to go home,” she heard herself say and he frowned.

“Well you can’t stay here-” 

She wondered for a moment whether he was worried she’d ask to go to his house. Maybe she wanted to ask... but the imagined look of rejection on his face was enough to kill the question before her mouth opened.

“Battersea,” she said instead, and he hesitated. “My flat – it's in Battersea.” 

She let him drive her without comment; she was too exhausted to even be concerned when he took a route unknown to her. She trusted him and her eyes were nearly closed when the car came to a halt and she lifted her head, looking up at the building shrouded by darkness. 

Julia didn’t wait for him to open the door for her; she was sick of the notion of bodyguards and soldiers. She just wanted to be in control of herself even for just one night and so she was out of the car before he was halfway around  it, but she ignored the look on his face. 

She watched the way his glance roamed over the expensive yet horribly unlived in interior of her flat, looking at the judgement rolling around his eyes when he took note of the ridiculous paintings on the wall and the  extravag a nt furniture. Suddenly shame flushed over her and she wished she had asked him to take her to his house instead; she bet his flat was far less stuffy.

She was a stranger in her own home and judging by his reaction to her ‘humble’ abode, he didn’t know who this was stranger was either. That stung and she covered the moment by clearing her throat and tried to pull her dirty blazer from shoulders. When it didn’t effortlessly fall from her weary limbs, she pulled hard on it with a guttural cry.

David was beside her in a second, hands on her shoulders, gripping down just hard enough to bring her back to the present and he peeled the garment away from her.

“Hey,” he said softly, and with his face so close to hers she could see the dried blood around his hairline. He’d been hurt too and her fingers stretched out to touch his head gently. 

He let her, only for a minute before he pulled her hand gently away.

“Where’s your bathroom?” he said, eyes expectant.

She stopped short, where was her bathroom?

“Through there,” she finally said, pointing  weakly into the flat. It was only when he’d gotten to the door, she  realised he was about to walk into her bedroom first. The thought should have horrified her surely... Had she cleaned it recently? Did it matter? 

She took a step towards the room when she heard water running and frowned as she turned corner into the warm bathroom. Steam tendrils floated around her and she still felt cold. She tilted her head when she saw him bent over her clawfoot  bathtub .

“What-” she  said , and he rolled up his sleeve to swirl the foamy water before drawing up to full height, turning the taps off.

“I didn’t know which one you’d prefer, so I just for that one,” he said pointing to the purple bottle and when she moved closer, the faint trace of lavender filled her nose.

“Right,” was all Julia could say as she shuffled past him to the mirror to survey the damage to her face.

She had mostly made it through unscathed; the wound traipsing across her temple and winding close to her hair line was the worst. It would scar, she thought before her eyes met his through the mirror.

“I’ll erm... I should go,” he said though his face  lo o ked like he wanted anything but to walk away. She willed her brain to engage, to stop him but she remained quiet until he was halfway through the doorway. She ground her teeth and spun to face him.

“Please don’t go,” she only said and she thought she saw relief flooding him when he looked at her.

“Try not to get that too wet,” he said, pointing his finger weakly at his head and as if mirroring him, she raised her fingers to touch the wound.

When he left her, she peeled her blouse from her bruised body, catching the way balck mottled the skin on her shoulder. And when she sank into the hot water, she winced and pulled her knees up to her chest, running her hand  through her dirty hair.

Warm lavender water scolded every raw inch of her reddening skin, and yet she barely registered it, could hardly feel it. The light in the bathroom was too bright and so she closed her eyes, regretting it almost immediately when bod y part s and red flashed before her. The smell of blood was so strong for a second she thought she was back ther e ,  amongst the rubble, her colleagues dying or dead around her. The moaning and crying of pain rattling around her. 

She snapped open her eyes, heart pounding when it became too overpowering and she stared at a swirl of red in the water as it curled around her leg. If she focused hard enough on the bloody vine curling with the bubbles, she could keep her thoughts from wandering into bad areas, could stop the screams pushing through.

This was ridiculous! She snapped inside her head. People were literally waking up in war zones daily and here she was crying over some idiot who drove into a  crowd. But she wasn’t crying; she prided herself on still being too strong for that.

“Julia?” the door creaked open and somewhere in the peripheral she could see him enter the  room , but she didn’t move. “Julia... you’ve been in here for a while.”

Had she? The cooling water was a testament to this , but she could swear she had only gotten in five minutes ago. When he spoke , he sounded far away, like he was underwater, or maybe she was. It sure felt like she was drowning. 

“I was calling you... you didn’t answer so I got worried...” he  said , and she stared at him. 

She couldn’t remember him being there and suddenly she wondered how she had gotten home. His brow furrowed, and she saw the pity in his eyes. She deplored it so she turned away.

“Are you okay?” he said as he approached. But she wouldn’t look at him. She couldn’t because if she did, he’d see the shameful tears tracking down her cheeks.

She swiped at the first few that trickled down but then they came thicker and faster and she was too weak to brush them away. She heard his knees crack before she felt his hand on her upper arm and turned to look at him. His face held no more pity, only... something else she hadn’t seen in anyone’s eyes for a long time. 

He said nothing as he swiped a flannel and dipped it into the water. Julia watched him as he raised the damp cloth to her face, wiping gently over her cheeks. It felt too foreign, to have someone taking care of her; she’d normally  re s ist out of pride but something about his gentle hands was comforting.

She tried to keep her eyes from locking with his, lest he see right through her; she felt too vulnerable, too  pit i ful and exposed. When he finished with her face, he rubbed the soap between the flannel and took each hand in turn, uncurling her trembling fingers and washing each of them gently.

“Please stop,” she said quietly, finally meeting his glance. It was too late; he was already seeing  her , and she was rapidly losing control.

Her breath came out thick and fast until she was panting and  gasping for air. This had never happened to before and suddenly she felt sick. With each gasp, a fresh batch of tears came.

“Please stop,” she murmured through her tears, choking on the sizable lump in her throat. She looked down at her hands. He’d lovingly washed the blood and dirt  off but they still seemed red and she rubbed at them harder and harder. But she could still smell the copper, taste it in the back of her throat.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothed touching her head. When she didn’t answer, he drew back.

“Julia!” She spun to face him, anguished dried on her cheeks. “Just let me.”

She blinked. Who did he think he was?! He made her fall for him, betrayed her and then knocked her up. He didn’t get to sick here and see her in all her naked vulnerability, let alone him being a  aprt of nursing her through … whatever this episode was. 

And yet the thought of him getting up and walking out seemed unfathomable.

“Julia...” he said, softer but no less probing. Could he stop saying her name for five fucking minutes! 

He sat back on his heels and cupped her face.

“Just let me.”

Their eyes met and the sincerity in his melted away the last of her resolve and she  she dropped her gaze, accepting him in. She heard his light sigh, wondering whether he was annoyed or relieved and he leaned over her. At once she felt a warm stream peppering her bruised back before he murmured, “lean your head back.”

She looked at him, wondering just how far her trust in him extended.

“Relax, I’ve washed my kids’ hair loads of times,” he  said , and reservation faded away. 

She did as she was told and tipped her head back, closing her eyes when the water poured over her, before the flow stopped and a cool thick liquid was applied to her scalp. His fingertips worked the shampoo into her matted hair, careful to skirt around her wound and by the time he’d worked through the entire lengths, a soothing sense of peace fell over her, muscles beginning to uncurl inside her  t i ghtly wound skin. He scraped his nails lightly over her head and then stopped.

Julia opened her mouth, about to protest when he washed the suds away and repeated the process with conditioner, combing his fingers through the tangles. Sitting there, bunched up she suddenly felt like a child from too many years ago. She winced when he pulled a little too hard and when he  apologised softly, she thought she might  t ry again.

He rinsed it all away and she was finally clean... at least physically.

She sat on the edge of the bath while he rubbed the towel over  her , and it was the first time in her life she felt truly helpless and pathetic. 


	16. Chapter 16

“Are you hungry?” he said, and she came to. Somewhere along the line he had wrapped her in a robe with hair half dried and tousled. She paused, waiting for hunger pains but instead all she felt was sick. 

“Not really.” 

“I’ll get you some tea.” He disappeared from view and she remained sitting, knuckles white from her death grip on the bathtubs edge, staring at her bare legs and feet. When the silence became too much, Julia followed him. 

At once the air of the flat was too cold and she started shivering furiously, wrapping her arms around her middle as she watched David opening and closing cupboards to the soundtrack of the boiling kettle. The image ordinarily might have made her laugh, but now, she simply felt hollow. 

“The cups are in there.” She pointed and he jumped before spinning to the cupboard she indicated. 

“I’m so cold,” she said, and he stopped mid-stride. 

“Why don’t you go and get dressed. I’ll bring this through,” he only said, and she dropped to one hip. It was like he was afraid to touch her outside of that bathroom and all she wanted was him to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But Julia had never known how to ask for help, so she never asked. 

-x- 

Her eyes snapped open when the door creaked open and she turned on her side. She knew it could only be David, and she watched him bring the tea to where she laid before he sank down onto the edge of the bed without touching her. She shuffled up until she was sitting and clutched the cup to her. When their eyes met, she knew he was lingering between staying or going. 

“We need to talk,” she said, gulping at the tea and letting the warm liquid glide down her throat. He nodded blankly. 

“We do but... Julia... you’re in shock. We’ll talk later,” he said stoically. His sudden coldness sent a sharp spike of heat shooting up her spine and she dropped the cup down a little harder than strictly necessary. 

She rolled onto her side away from and waited for him to get up. He didn’t and she didn’t know whether she wanted to him to leave or not so she pulled the duvet up to her chin and wiped her watering eyes on it. She hated this; the constant bounce between raging fury and the constant need to cry, two emotions she rarely let herself experience to this extent yet now it seemed amplified. 

“Julia...” he sighed and when she didn’t respond, she felt the bed shift and his weight was gone. 

“I don’t... I don’t understand... this.” 

He sank back down next to her. 

“I’m so cold,” she said weakly and he rubbed his face. 

“Do you want me to stay?” he said wearily, and she faltered. 

Julia had spent so long building her own support systems, relying on herself for strength, that she didn’t know how to receive support, but she knew what it was when someone was offering. She spread her hand on the bed, snaking towards his across the duvet. He looked down and watched as her fingers probed for his and when their fingertips touched, he gripped her hand tight and breathed in what she presumed, rather hoped, was audible relief. She let out a whimper as he stroked his thumb over her skin before he rolled into the bed. 

She fell into his arms, pressing her face into his neck as her arms tangled around her back. His hands in her hair felt calming, and soothing. He moved against her, flinging his leg over hers and pulling her in as close to him as possible. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered in her ear and she spread her fingers out amongst his hair at the nape of his neck, letting him fill her senses. 

His scent replaced the blood in her nostrils, the touch of his skin and hair beneath her fingertips replaced the glass and broken rubble upon her palms. It was warm in his arms but more importantly, she felt safe, safer than she had ever felt with Roger in their entire marriage. 

-x- 

She woke to darkness. Pain gripped her abdomen and her back ached like something she’d never experienced but she supposed that usually came with being nearly blown up. David’s arm was loosely flung around her middle and she touched his hand briefly before she peeled him away and extracted herself from the warm cocoon they’d created. 

Julia arched her back to try and ease the tension, but it did nothing to alleviate the ache in the base of her spine. She shuffled to the bathroom to the bathroom, clutching at her stomach lightly. When she flicked for the light, she was overcome by a pain so nauseating that it brought stars to the edge of her vision and she staggered to the sink to splash cold water on her face. 

Blood trickled down her legs and she stared at it for a moment, bewildered before she doubled over, the shooting pain in her uterus so strong she couldn’t tell if the bleeding was the cause or a side effect. She put her hand between her thighs and brought it, shaking, up to her face, letting out a sob when she saw it thoroughly draped red. 

“David!” she cried, standing in the doorway of the bloodied bathroom and her sterile bedroom. “David wake up!” 

She wanted to scream at him and nearly did until she saw him starting to stir. 

“Julia... what …" he said, rubbing his face. 

“I need to go to hospital,” she snapped. 

“What?! Why?!” he was fully alert now and bolt upright. 

“I think I’m having a miscarriage,” Julia whimpered. 

-x- 

Over the next few days sleep came and went, claiming her hours and only affording her fleeting glances of David as he he’d sat vigil. The moments were only long enough to cement his image to memory before she forgot it all over again under the influence of a drug addled slumber. 

On the second afternoon, she awoke with a start. 

The pain had mostly ebbed away now, taking with it, a child she’d never known she’d wanted until she had heard its little heartbeat. 

“Afternoon,” the voice was snide, and she turned her head, full of dread to see Roger sitting comfortably beside her. 

“What do you want?” she rasped, scratching at the canula in her hand. 

“I came to see how you were doing... my dear,” he sneered, and she thought how sad it was they’d come to this; had ended up here. A marriage once made of equals, and at least some love, now stripped of anything but hate. 

“I’m here to let you know there will be a statement released in the next day. All about this... little mess. On James’ orders of course. You are hereby hospitalized for injuries pertaining to the bombing. No one needs to know you were knocked up by your toy boy,” he said it so matter-of-factly that she couldn’t think of a single reason she’d ever married him. 

He took advantage of her groggy brain before she could formulate a response. 

“If you ever want to consider taking over my job, or even remain in the cabinet, at all, then you’ll realise I’m right. A scandal like this would finish you!” he said and the biting reality was that he was right. 

“Finish you more likely,” she retorted spitefully as he made it to the door. He scoffed, gave her a condescending smile and turned away, buttoning up his jacket. 

“What did he want?” David said as he emerged with two coffees and she shrugged. Roger was right; no one would ever know there had been seven victims of the parliament bombing. Rather, news would continue to report on it and honour the six who perished but only a few would know of the little life that had been snuffed out inside her belly. 

“Just work,” she said. 

He accepted her explanation and sank down, the two cups laid on the table untouched. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said softly, and she turned her head to one side. 

“Well I didn’t need the world knowing I’d been knocked up by a fling,” she said spitefully, and he clenched his fists. 

“You really think that’s all this is? A fling?” The hurt accusation in his eyes burned her, tears pricked at her eyes. How did she answer that? 

“Isn’t it?” she said finally, and he sat back with a huff. 

“Not for me” he said and when she looked at him, his head was turned towards the door. 

“I’m sorry,” she barely whispered, and he snapped his attention back to her, eyes only slightly softened. “I didn’t want you to feel obligated, like I'd trapped you.” 

He leant forward. 

“I’d never have thought that! Can’t we just...” He choked and she blindly reached out for his hand. 

“After everything? We were nearly killed three days ago, and I lost your child. How?” she said, trying to ignore the crestfallen look on his face. Her chest hurt... for him or for their child, she didn’t know but she knew she’d break if he walked out her life again. 

Julia was defined by her calm, cool and collected façade but this man, right here, had shaken something free in her. 

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” she said, swiping at the dampness on her cheeks. She looked up, blue eyes of pain slowly dissolving into something so passionate, warm and loving that she thought she’d crack. It was a look she hadn’t seen mirrored back at her for so long. 

“You think?” he said with a light chuckle and the thickness cleared as she let out a watery laugh. “I mean... I know I've fallen in love but if you’re unsure...” he stood up and her smile faded; the happy ending was about to shatter. 

Instead, he leaned over the bed, pressing his mouth to hers, stroking her cheek and thumbing away the tears. When he pulled away, she leaned into him. 

“Still unsure...” she murmured with a slight grin, and pulled him back down to her, losing her hands in his hair. He pressed his forehead against hers, nuzzled her hair and kissed her temple before sinking back into the chair. 

“We’ll get through this,” he said, squeezing her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm done :)  
If you've made it this far - thank you!  
The experience of writing for you all has been mostly positive and I'm extremely grateful.


End file.
